


In the Heat of the Summer

by spideysmjs



Series: New Beginnings [1]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Coming of Age, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Mentions Of Infidelity, Michelle Jones Needs a Hug, Miscommunication, New Kid Michelle Jones, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-01-24 04:40:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21332413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spideysmjs/pseuds/spideysmjs
Summary: Just a crush, she repeats in her head the same way she did when she had to memorize Hamlet’s monologue sophomore year. Except, unlike that assignment that served no purpose to her except inducing her stage fright, MJ needed to instill in her head that liking someone – especially during the summer, the season of flings and quick romances – wasn’t good for her.Right before her senior year of high school, Michelle Jones leaves her childhood home after her parents' divorce moving into a quiet little suburb, getting hired at a cow-themed ice cream shop where she meets her co-worker, Peter Parker.
Relationships: Gwen Stacy/Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Betty Brant, Michelle Jones & Liz Allan, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Series: New Beginnings [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1537822
Comments: 35
Kudos: 114





	1. part one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't decided whether I'll be switching perspectives, but I most likely will later on. This project will take a bit longer than others. But I hope I do the couple justice. 
> 
> And when I say slow burn... It's going to be a rollercoaster...
> 
> But anyway, enjoy!

Birthdays are supposed to be _ fun._

They’re supposed to be full of family, friends, gifts, and – even if she’s not that big of a sweet tooth – a nice slice of vanilla birthday cake would be a lot more pleasant than this stuffy, cramped, and bumpy truck ride from Belmont, Massachusetts to Long Island. Though, MJ’s life for the past two months have not been anything close to _ fun _ at all. 

So, the lack of celebration and the lingering self-blame for the destruction of her perfect picket fence family? It’s pretty on-brand for MJ right now. Her brother and mother are too occupied with the dreadful move from her husband’s (well, _ ex-husband_) house to be celebrating an unimportant seventeenth birthday.

Instead, she’s stuck in the backseat of the U-Haul feeling the uneven road and potholes fighting against the wheels of the truck with her older brother turning up the bass of the sound system so that the noise of whatever trendy mumble rap song he’s playing is _extra _annoying. 

“Can you turn that down?” she uses her thumb to mark the place in her novel she had just started as they drove away from her childhood home just two hours ago. The vibrating bass mixed with the beat down engine and whirring of outside vehicles make it harder to capture her brother’s attention. “_Eric_.” 

Nothing. He’s probably ignoring her on purpose. Shocker.

“Yo, Eric, fucking turn it down!” she snaps at her brother who’s mindlessly scrolling through the new dating app that was in this month which is ridiculously pointless since they’re on the move, and he’d never be in the vicinity of whatever miserable girl decides to match with him. 

“Watch your language, Michelle,” her mom, Tammy, lowers the volume of the unintelligible babbling of Offspring, or whoever the one from Migos was. “Eric, you’re going to go deaf early if you keep listening to your music like this.” 

Her brother shrugs. 

“I told you, I refuse to go by Michelle now,” MJ states and reopens her copy of _ Jane Eyre _again, her favorite novel to read each summer as if the ending would change the next time she reads it; however, Jane’s still married to Rochester for ten years, they still have a child, and he still miraculously gains his eyesight back. But maybe this summer, it’s best that the novel has no surprises–MJ’s had enough of those. 

“Don’t be dramatic,” Eric snorts while on a tirade of left swipes. How judgmental. 

She ignores him, and so does her mother. MJ knows her mother is secretly proud of the way she has excommunicated herself from her given birth name, Michelle _ Jones _ – named after her father, David Jones, who had been cheating on Tammy for three years. MJ discovered this when she asked to use his laptop to write up an essay because Eric had been hogging their shared one to play League of Legends. She curses AP Lang and Eric’s addiction to video games for this discovery, but in the end, her father’s truly the only one to blame. She still feels a sick pang in her stomach remembering the look of her mother’s face when MJ showed her explicit images of their neighbor on the desktop. Her father’s an idiot for keeping those publicly, but MJ couldn’t give two shits about him the moment she found them. It’s like he wanted to get caught.

He wasn’t a terrible father, but she supposes his upbeat attitude and lovingness was an overcompensation due to the affair he needed to keep hidden. He was mediocre at best, but Eric really misses him because of their typical father-son-teach-you-how-to-catch-and-fix-cars relationship, something MJ really couldn’t relate to even if she tried. 

And now, on the first day of her 17th year of life, they’re moving to Long Island. Because it’s _ her _birthday, MJ creates another illogical association in her head that she had been the reason for the divorce – the reason for her mother’s unhappiness. She turns the page of her novel not even remembering the last passage she read.   
  


They move into a rented a barely two-story house in Jericho, New York, and despite being in an older part of the suburb and being a two-bedroom place (with her mother sleeping on a futon in the living room), rent was their biggest enemy. 

“You two both need to get jobs to help out, okay?” Tammy says as they finish unloading the last set of boxes from the U-Haul. “My job doesn’t make the best money, and child support only goes so far – and we won’t be getting that when you turn 18, Michelle.” 

“MJ,” she corrects her mother with her arms crossed and Eric scoffing in response. 

“Right, sorry. MJ,” she repeats. “But yes. Tomorrow, find jobs in the morning and unpack at night.”

“Yes, Mom,” she and Eric say simultaneously. 

MJ spends the rest of the night pushing her boxes into her new room, mattress plopped on the floor next to a pile of metal that would soon be her full bed frame. She steps over the boxes and bags labeled “MJ’s Shit” and explores the small square-shaped space she’d call her room. It hadn’t been much of a difference compared to her house in Belmont, except she no longer had a walk-in closet where she and her best friend, Liz Allan, would sit in at sleepovers and talk about their crushes. 

She looks out the window and sees another row of identically-structured houses on a street slightly less busy than the main road – their house was placed on the corner of the neighborhood. She also saw that if she unhinged the window screen, she could sneak onto the roof of her house. It’s the one positive from leaving Belmont right before her senior year began. 

Her mother enrolled MJ to Midtown High School. She did her research before they moved, and the school had its own official website with beautiful photographs of their students in lab, at football games, at lunch, and the like. So, naturally, MJ already believed it to be full of pretentious smart students because there’s nothing her mother wants more than her to assimilate into a crowd of the rich and privileged. She doesn’t blame her mother, though. MJ understands that she has to work hard for her future – harder than a lot of other kids – and having a school with great resources like college prep counselors and well-established extracurriculars just helps put her mother at ease. 

Poor, poor Tammy.

There’s a knock on the door from the woman in question even though the door had been left ajar when MJ first walked in. Tammy enters after MJ gives her permission to come in and they both sit on the mattress.

“Happy birthday, sweetie,” she hands MJ a small gift bag with an even smaller box placed inside. She kisses her forehead, a gesture that’s comforted MJ throughout the toughest times in her life. Tammy walks away and gives MJ her privacy when opening gifts. It’s a weird thing MJ has about wanting to hide her reactions to presents. She doesn’t like showing much emotion in front of big crowds or under intimate settings. On her fifth birthday, when she was old enough to get a sense of her surroundings, she cried when everyone gathered around her to watch her blow her candles. She hasn’t had a big party since. 

Her mom gives her a silver necklace that says _ MJ. _

* * *

MJ starts working at Utterly Ice Cream, a shop located in the town center ten blocks away from her neighborhood, and the uniform is god-awful because she has to wear a cartoon cow on her head, a white shirt, khaki pants, and a pink apron to fit the theme of the shop. Two weeks into her move, and she’s thankful that she knows nobody in this town because lord knows what her friends back home would say. She had sent Liz a selfie on her first day of training, and now each text greeting included cow-related jokes; some were funnier than others, but MJ appreciated all of her best friend’s attempts at a cheesy pun.

MJ: I hate this job so much.

Liz: MOOOOOOd. 

MJ: Nice.

Her first actual day of working isn’t too bad except for the 3pm rush, when the weather is at its peak and kids from all ages and levels of perspiration come in to cool off from the humid summer air. There’s a group of little kids that came from soccer practice causing chaos while their respective moms give their best attempt to calm down the sweaty brats, but not succeeding. They all give MJ the same look that screams, “I’m sorry, but not really”, eyes full of fake sorrow and lips slightly pulled back. She tells the last soccer mom and soccer kid pair to have an “Utterly Fantastic Day!” before taking one deep breath from the stress of the rush and relaxing her shoulders back to stretch out her arms. 

“Luckily your six hour shift ends soon,” her supervisor, Wayne, says cheerfully. Had it really been six hours? She looks at the clock reading 3:57pm with a sense of relief rushing through her. “How’d you enjoy it?” 

“It was fine,” MJ answers, “Morning’s super slow.” 

“Yeah,” Wayne grabs the supervisor clipboard pretending to check off items, but MJ knows he’s doing it to fill in the post-rush awkward silence, faint background Top 40’s music from the radio and the buzz of the shake machine being the only noises to occupy the space. “Hate to break it to ya, but the person coming in is usually late to work.” 

“You should fire them then,” MJ shrugs. 

“On the contrary, he’s actually our star employee,” Wayne continues to scribble. “Gets a lot of customers’ attention when he’s working.” 

“Is he pretty or something?” MJ snorts and unties her apron at the strike of 4:00 refusing to work any more than she has to for this minimum wage job with zero benefits because she’s lactose intolerant and can’t even eat the free food. Right on cue, the bells above the door jingle accompanying the squeaky sound of the door frame opening. 

A boy with curly brown hair and an outfit similar to hers rushes in. He’s almost bursting out of the employee polo, but MJ averts her gaze almost immediately. He _ is _pretty. A tad on the shorter side, but he has freckles on his face and the skin around his light brown eyes crinkle as he waves the two of them hello. 

“Hey, Peter,” Wayne greets him as the boy opens the door into the cashier area and heads to the backroom for an apron. Flustered, MJ shakes her head and goes into the same room to clock out of her shift. Wayne laughs at her. Asshole. 

She punches in her employee number on the machine as he’s tying up an apron and pinning his nametag. 

“Looks like one of us is gonna have to change,” he puts his hands on his hips and scrunches his face. It’s cute - he’s cute. “I’m Peter.” 

She stares at his hand for a millisecond before shaking it. Apparently, she’s forgotten how to interact with humans that weren’t sweaty kids or supervisors named Wayne. “My name’s MJ. And don’t get your utters in a twist, Peter, I’ll be out of this horrendous outfit and out of your hair as soon as I clock out.” 

“That’s too bad,” he slowly lets go of her hand, fingers lingering for a slight moment, and tucks his cow hat properly on his head. 

“See you around, Peter,” she smiles and heads towards the door. Before she leaves, she turns around as he finishes their conversation.

“Hopefully soon,” a charming grin still painted on his face. 

On her way back home, MJ pops in her headphones and queues the best songs for her 20-minute walk. Halfway through, she senses a strange presence looming behind her, but she speeds up her pace rather than looking behind. She didn’t want to prove herself right. The paranoia still sets in when she makes a turn on the corner, and a hand taps her shoulder. Immediately, she turns to the body connected to the hand and jumps into a fighting position.

Instead, she finds a white girl around her age wearing a plaid summer dress looking as if the cast of _ Clueless _ spat on her. MJ drops her fists, still keeping a cautionary aura around her because what random person just _ does _that?

“I’m sorry – I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m your neighbor!” her smile is wide and genuine. “My name is Betty.” 

“I’m MJ,” she welcomes a space next to her on the sidewalk. “Do you always approach strangers like a cold-blooded murderer?” 

“Oh, sorry… I’m just used to being friendly to anyone really,” she smiles sheepishly. “I live across the street from you. I met your mom earlier this morning, and she told me that you’d be getting off work around this time.” 

There’s a silence. 

“God, I just realized that sounds like I waited for you the whole day, but I didn’t. I went to work, too. I tutor English at the Y near The Deli.” 

“It’s okay. That’s cool. My brother just got a job at the Deli. I just got off work, too. From the town center,” MJ wraps the wires of her headphones and tucks it into her pocket losing the opportunity to finish her careful selection of favorite tunes. She slows down on her steps when she reaches the front of her house. “This is me.” 

“It was nice to meet you, MJ… I hope we can hang out sometime soon,” Betty tucks a bit of her blonde hair behind her ear. “I heard you’re going to Midtown, too.”

“I’m just across the street,” MJ returns a polite grin, “And yeah, I am. Anything I should be warned about?”

“Do you have time?” she chuckles and rolls her eyes. MJ’s sure her offer to talk had just been a joke about the ridiculousness of her future high school, but she decides to take the opportunity anyway. She’d take anything to soften the blow of interrupting the flow of everyone’s already-established high school experience by being the new girl at the worst possible year she could be. 

“I do. Have time,” MJ stutters. She hasn’t been in a situation where she had to actually make friends in a while. All her life was spent in Belmont; all her best friends had been from the fourth grade. But now, ripped away from the comfort of her childhood hometown, she’s placed in an uncomfortable zone in her life. She wonders how annoyed she and her friends back in Belmont would be if a new student did the same thing as MJ and arrived at the last minute. She shudders.

“Cool,” Betty follows her to the door. If she noticed MJ’s awkward fumble, she didn’t say anything. 

MJ welcomes Betty into her room thankful she already finished packing one week ago and even more thankful that she has had zero plans since then. Her room is close to spotless. 

“Your room is super cool,” Betty traces her fingers along the posters of MJ’s favorite artists. “This poster’s my favorite. Frank Ocean is cool.”

“Blond’s a great album,” MJ sits at the edge of her bed making sure to leave enough room so Betty could feel comfortable to do the same. “So how’s Midtown like? Kind of dumb to name a suburban high school after the city.” 

Betty snorts. She sits next to MJ. 

“I think the name is a perfect representation of the fact that everyone tries way too hard at school.”

“What do you mean?” MJ scoots up so she can lay down across her mattress, and Betty follows.

“It’s like… everyone needs to be known at Midtown, or else they’ll die. Like everyone student has their own identity that wants to outshine everyone else. It’s not just football players or nerds. It’s football players that volunteer at homeless shelters and are actually pretty sweet. It’s AP students who do a shit ton of drugs and party all the time even though they have their shit together.”

“Oh.” 

“Anyway, there’s a lot of stuff to do at Midtown. I’m the editor-in-chief of the school paper and I do morning announcements. I’m sure you’ll find your niche.”

“Is there even a point? Looks like everything’s already established. Why would I even try to be somebody?” 

“Because it’s Midtown,” Betty turns over so her face is resting in hands, elbows propped up on the bed so that MJ’s gaze is slightly upward.

“The smartest kids are the most fucked up and the teachers turn a blind eye because every student’s got their life planned for Ivy Leagues, and no one really gives a shit about cliques here. Everyone’s somebody, and that’s why nothing fucking matters.” 

Betty moves her arms so she’s lying flat and staring at the ceiling as she continues, 

“We’re all leaving next year anyway.”

MJ’s cheeks are burning. This school is clearly not made for someone like her, and it’s unfair that she has to relearn how to make friends when she had a perfectly fine group before. Midtown’s a horror film and she’s the victim that dies in the first scene of the movie. 

“I’ll probably lay low. I’m good at that.” And it’s true, she is. If she didn’t want to try being friendly, she didn’t have to be. She counts the dots of her popcorn ceiling. 

Lay low. Easy.

* * *

MJ doesn’t see Peter again until Friday when they both have a closing shift together. She shows up to her 4pm shift 15 minutes early and reads in the backroom waiting for the other two associates to clock out. The dim fluorescents strain her eyes, but she doesn’t mind because she only has two chapters left of her book. It’s kind of disappointing that it took her two weeks to finish it, but work and moving in is exhausting. 

“Hey you.” 

She’s snapped out of her novel by the soothing voice of her stupidly cute co-worker. _ Gross_, she thinks to herself for feeling whatever the hell she’s feeling. She only met him once. 

“Hi,” she keeps her eyes on her novel, sitting on the chair closest to the wall. The backroom fan is low and dusty, and it’s the only spot that the air doesn’t hit it. Wayne refuses to turn it off. 

“Looks like we’re working together.” There’s an electronic punch of numbers and the shuffling of aprons. 

“That we are.” 

She hasn’t looked up. 

“_Jane Eyre_?” 

“Yup.” 

“Cool, cool,” he sits on the chair right in front of her, his presence distracting her. She’s reread the same sentence over and over again. “Relatable.” 

“You can relate to Jane Eyre?” she meets his gaze, one eyebrow raised in question. He had already been looking at her. He’s smiling. 

“Kind of,” he laughs to himself. Weirdo. He coughs. “Actually, no. Not at all.”

“That’s what I thought,” she snorts. No way this boy could relate to Jane Eyre. She clicks her phone and reads the time. “Time to work.” 

In all honesty, MJ didn’t know why she was being so cold to Peter. There’s no logical reason; only the assumption that if a boy was that handsome and charming, there had to be something wrong with him, and MJ didn’t want to waste her time thinking about it. 

He tries to make conversations throughout their entire shift. 

“What does MJ stand for?” he asks after sorting a customer’s payment in all change into the appropriate slots of the cashier. 

“It doesn’t,” she wipes the counter for the 4th time within the hour.

“So you’re just MJ?” 

“Exactly.” 

“I don’t buy it,” he chuckles. “But I won’t ask.” 

“Good.” 

“What other books do you like to read, MJ?” 

“I like everything. I’ll try reading something at least once if it’s suggested to me. Do you like reading?”

“Uh, do comics count?” 

“Yeah, I guess they do.”

“Then yeah, I love reading.” So he’s a comic book-fanboy-nerd.

The conversation ends. 

“What school do you go to?” he tries again. 

“I don’t." It’s not technically a lie. She hasn’t attended Midtown _ yet_. 

“So you don’t go to school. And your name is just MJ. Am I in one of those movies where I’ve just been talking to a ghost the whole time? Like _ The Sixth Sense_?” 

“Do you see dead people, Peter?” she refers to the film. “Anyway, I don’t go to school yet. I’m new. Unfortunately.” 

“Oh, okay. Well, welcome to Jericho!” he holds his arms out as if the entire store is all there is to the city. It’s not far from the truth. He loses balance for a second, almost stumbling backward, and that makes MJ giggle. 

“I feel welcomed.”

“I’m glad I did my job really well. They don’t call me the best town-welcomer for nothing,” he fakes a southern accent. She rolls her eyes. This is ridiculous, and she hates it. She doesn’t even know what _it _is. It’s not a crush, not at all, she promises. 

Peter’s just… interesting. 

“So where will you go to school?” he walks around to wipe the beaten-down tables that no one really decides to sit at. It’s more of a to-go ice cream shop. 

“Midtown.” 

“Oh, God,” he shakes his head picking up the crumpled up napkins that an inconsiderate customer left behind. 

“I’ve been getting that common reaction from a lot of people.” The same nausea she had felt when she first talked to Betty makes a quick return. 

“No, no. I go there! It’s… it’s an interesting place,” he scratches the back of his head. That has _ got _ to be a health violation. “Interesting people. You’ll fit right in, MJ.” 

Had he just called her interesting? She’s spent the first three hours of work trying so hard to not be. Guess she can’t help it. But just before MJ could come up with a witty remark, the sound of the bells interrupt them.

“Welcome!” Peter greets the two girls who walk in. One of them nudges the other, and they giggle. So _ this _ is what Wayne meant by Peter being the star employee. The two walk to the front of the ice cream bar meeting MJ’s deadpan stare. 

“How may I help you?” she asks.

“Can we get two double fudge milkshakes?” one of them, the shorter one, asks with a hint of fear in her voice. 

“No problem. That’ll be $8 even.” The other hands her a crisp $10 bill to complete the transaction. As MJ’s making the shake, she can hear the two of them make comments about Peter’s arms as he mops the floor. MJ chuckles to herself. 

“Here you go,” she hands of the two chocolate milkshakes and watches the girls sit on the table, watching Peter do the rest of his cleaning. The girls, however, aren’t very secretive about their teasing when the brunette nudges the shorter blonde to say something to Peter, conversation ending in a burst of laughter. Peter’s face turns beet red when he finishes up and takes the cleaning supplies into the backroom. 

He returns next to MJ behind the counter with her fighting back an embarrassing jab. After twenty minutes, the girls decide to leave but not without the brunette pushing the blonde one toward the counter.

“Okay, okay_, _” the blonde says. She walks to the counter and, to MJ’s amusement, finds the courage to hit on Peter. “Listen, you’re really cute. Can I have your number?” 

Props to her for having the courage to outright express her feelings. Peter laughs nervously, scratching the back of his head _ again, _and looks at the girl.

“Sorry, uh, I’m kind of seeing someone,” his answer causing MJ to turn her head to him a little too quickly for her own liking. She wants to hit her head against the cashier for reacting that way, but feels slightly less ashamed when she realizes Peter’s eyes were on her already desperately screaming to get out of the situation as quickly as possible. The girl pans her gaze from Peter to MJ.

“Oh, _ okay_,” she lets out, a tone that hit MJ in the gut. Two words had never left MJ more insecure–she wasn’t even dating Peter in the first place. The girls walk out of the store and as the door closes, the brunette comforts the blonde talking about how Peter wasn’t even that cute anyway. 

“What a nice white lie,” she breaks the silence.

“What?” Peter asks, eyes filled with confusion. 

“We’re not dating, Peter,” she says. “But I guess, anything to get out of that embarrassing situation. I probably would have done the same.” 

“Wait, MJ–” 

The bell rings again, bringing in an endless group of kids who look like they’d just taken a swim. MJ sighs and straightens her back ready to take on the 7pm rush, trying to not think about what Peter was going to say before they were rudely interrupted by having to do their job. 

By the end of their shift, MJ declares that bringing back the subject of the pseudo-girlfriend claim was pointless no matter how much curiosity ate her alive. There’s a shred of embarrassment paired with that curiosity considering how intrigued she was by her co-worker despite the fact they’d interacted with each other for less than 24 hours. But she reminds herself that he’s just a handsome guy, and although most of them are absolute trash, she’s allowed to think boys are attractive, goddammit. 

When they finish locking up the store, MJ begins to head toward the sidewalk for her walk back home before Peter calls out after her.

“Do you need a ride home?” he offers. 

“No, it’s okay,” she’s already pulling up her music as he inches closer to her.

“Don’t be ridiculous, MJ. It’s 10pm, and I have a car. With a passenger seat,” he says, eyes twinkling brighter than the moon. 

“I didn’t know they started making cars with passenger seats,” she quips. 

“Well, if you see the car I drive, you’ll know it’s probably the first of that kind,” he bobs his head toward the parking lot, and it is really dark out, so she follows him. 

“You better not be kidnapping me,” she expresses while the two make their way to Peter’s tan-colored Camry. From the chipped paint on the bumper and mild dents on the side, MJ could guestimate that the car had been from the early 2000’s, storing this useless information in the part of her brain where she had somewhat learned from her father and Eric’s endless conversations about cars. 

Peter opens the passenger door for MJ, and she rolls her eyes at the gesture. 

“I can open the door myself, you know,” she slides into the passenger seat with her legs at an awkward bend so she has to adjust the car placement. 

“Oh, sorry – I just do that for everyone,” he starts the engine and passes her the aux cord. “Did you want to play music?” 

She connects her phone to the radio and shuffles her summer playlist as he pulls out of the parking lot and onto the main road. The car ride is quiet, save for the slight breeze of hot air, and the low volume of R&B. 

“I like this song,” Peter taps the wheels of the car to the slow beat. MJ agrees, but the conversation falters, and she’s back to counting the lines on her knuckles while she’s giving directions to Peter. The silence isn’t as uncomfortable as MJ thought it would be, the tension only from MJ’s endless inner-stream of creating scenarios in her head that could potentially make the car ride turn sour even though it was only ten minutes. 

Being around Peter was natural, almost. Like she’d run into an old friend and after a few hours of small talk, they’re back to conversations that begin small and end in a vast and fulfilling dialogue. There’s an ever-present intense pull of their connection – MJ has great intuition – yet, she remains silent because being vulnerable isn’t really what she needs right now. So MJ decides to keep herself guarded with short sentences and sarcasm around him to protect herself from cracking open a dam of deep dark secrets from flooding out of her mouth. 

Once they pull up to her house, he loops around the cul de sac before letting her go. 

“Thanks for the ride,” she gathers her backpack from beneath the seat and rests it on her lap. 

“Anytime, MJ,” he unlocks the doors of the car for her to step out. “And, I hope you really like it here. I know being new is probably going to feel super alienating, which is never a good feeling…” he looks down for a moment before smiling and looking back to MJ. “I hope you know that once the time comes, you’ll at least see one familiar face at Midtown.” 

He waves goodbye as she watches him pull away from her neighborhood, the sound of the engine becoming fainter and fainter. 

* * *

“_So when’s the next time you have to work with him?” _MJ uses her shoulders to press her phone against her ear as catches up with Liz. They hadn’t talked on the phone since her first full day after settling into their new house. To be fair, not much has happened with MJ, aside from befriending Betty, finding a job, and meeting Peter–that’s the only reason why she mentioned him in the first place, and definitely no other reason. 

“I’m off for the rest of the weekend and Monday. I can’t remember if he works on Tuesday or not,” her legs are resting against the wall as she lays in bed. 

“_He sounds cute, MJ. _”

“I guess. I always catch him kind of staring at me. It’s weird.

_ “I mean he tried so hard to talk to you on your shift. And he pretended he was dating you to get out of giving that girl his number. Maybe he’s attracted to you. _” 

“He’s definitely just being nice. I’d have done the same thing if that happened to me. I even told him that,” she puts Liz on speaker and lays her phone on her chest. “I don’t know. He goes to Midtown. I’ll see him when school starts too.”

“_You should stalk him on Instagram or something.” _

“I already tried,” MJ’s cheeks flush, “he’s on private. I don’t want to follow him. That’s so soon. I feel like I’m just bored. And he’s fun to look at! Makes work more enjoyable.” 

“_Okay, yeah, he sounds like good eye candy. How’s everything else? _” MJ pauses at Liz’s question. She hasn’t really processed much of the move since she got there. That first night had been overwhelming, but Tammy’s request for her kids to find jobs sent MJ on the hunt for one as fast as possible. As soon as she was hired, she spent most of her time at the ice cream shop or walking around. Being at home made her feel uneasy, and as much as she’s developed a hatred towards her father, it still feels weird not coming home to the house she’d grown up in. On top of that, the two reviews of her future high school left her more uneasy to be in a new place, even if she’d already made friends with Betty and Peter, she guesses. 

“Kind of...whatever,” she tells Liz the truth. “I miss home. And you guys. But there hasn’t been anything other than my own thoughts to really affect how I feel about this new place. So it’s not the best, but not the worst.” 

_ “We miss you too. The group isn’t the same without you. Everyone else sucks at Trivial Pursuit and there’s no one being too competitive at Mario Kart. And the annual Fourth of July party won’t be as fun without you making fun of Danny’s and Chris’ ridiculous attempts at setting off fireworks.” _

MJ’s heart aches. 

“Yeah,” she breathes. Maybe hearing about what her home friends were up to would be more hurtful than she thought. 

“_You have any plans for the fourth?” _

“Yeah. Betty invited our family over,” she answers, mind still fixated on the idea of her best friends moving on and doing the same things they’d normally do, but without her. It sucks. And she doesn’t mean to cut her conversation with Liz coldly, but her best friend’s voice reminds her too much of the last year that they couldn’t have together. “I gotta go, Liz. I’ll text you later.”

_ “Sure. Bye, MJ.” _

After her mood is dampened by the inevitability of her best friends moving on with life without her, MJ sits on her roof, looking at the stars and listening to music to try to block out the heavy cloud of negative feelings. _ Moving is gonna get easier_, she repeats to herself until she starts to believe it. It’s about one in the morning when she looks down to see Eric opening the door with a gray-haired girl’s arm wrapped around his waist. She pulls her headphones out.

“Don’t worry, my mom’s got a late shift at her job,” he laughs. 

“Good. Don’t want to wake her up from being too loud,” the girl responds. Gross. “Anyone else home?” 

“Just my sister but she’s probably too busy doing something stupid like reading,” he opens the door. 

“Reading’s not stupid,” the girl defends her before getting whisked away into the dark of their house.

* * *

To celebrate her first paycheck, MJ uses Sunday to explore her neighborhood more, which is what leads her into a small bookstore not too far off from her place of employment. The store is a quaint space with a set of stairs leading into a reading room that serves complimentary coffee and hot chocolate. Right before the staircase is a small shelf labeled “Alfie’s Favorites” that catches her eye. 

She peers over the diverse genre of books in the collection before finding a small novel titled _ Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes_. Enticed by the cover, she reads the description. And yes, MJ judges books by their covers because sometimes the cover _ does _prove to correlate with how entertained she was by the book, and that idiom was meant to be about people and their appearances anyway. And from her experiences, books and people are definitely not alike. 

“That’s a good choice,” a voice calls out from behind MJ. She turns to see a much older man with glasses dressed in a white button-up and brown corduroy pants.

“You must be Alfie,” she greets.

“Yes ma’am, and that is my shelf of favorite novels.” 

“It’s a good amount. A lot of these I’ve never read before,” she traces her fingers along the spines of the different selections. 

“You’re welcome to rent them anytime,” he smiles, “that is the only shelf that isn’t for sale, but it seems to be the most popular.” 

“I’d like to rent this one,” she hands Alfie the book she’d been looking at. He gestures her to the register to make the rental exchange which was only $5. She hands him a bill as he writes down her name and stamps the return date on the inside. “This is a really cool place, Alfie.” 

“Thank you – I do try to keep this up. Not a lot of people come by here too often anymore. People just use Kindles and iPads to read. It is less paper, but to me, there’s not much that beats the feeling of physically flipping through the pages.”

“Me too. I enjoy writing notes on the margins, too,” she takes the book from Alfie’s hands and heads to the reading space upstairs. “Thank you!” 

MJ burns through the small book quickly, finish the last page within two hours, eyes filled with tears from the ending. Luckily, there’s a cleverly placed box of Kleenex on the coffee table and no one around to see her like this. She wipes the tears from her face as another customer walks in. 

“Ahh, Peter Parker! Good to see you again,” Alfie welcomes the one person MJ hadn’t been expecting to see until their next shift together. “How’s the Aunt?” 

“Oh, she’s great, Alfie. She’s working her day job right now. I’m going to pick her up, but I just needed to buy a gift.”

“What better gift than a book?” Alfie chuckles. MJ starts to feel uncomfortable with eavesdropping and decides to revisit her favorite pages of the novel to mute out the sound of their conversation. It doesn’t help at all. “What kind of genre?” 

“I don’t know… probably a mystery novel… It’s just a part of a much bigger present I’m working on… Busy day?” she can hear Peter’s voice has shifted from the front of the store to the side. 

“Nope, just one customer up there reading _ Paper Cranes_.” 

“Oh, May raves about that one all the time,” Peter expresses, voice shifting back to the front. “This book should do, Alfie.”

There’s a quick exchange of receipts and cash before MJ hears Alfie offer Peter a cup of hot chocolate from upstairs. MJ’s ears are burning. She’ll be spotted. There’s absolutely no turning back now.

“MJ?” the sound of his voice travels from her ears down to her stomach with a sudden flare of nerves exploding within MJ. 

“Peter,” she returns before jokingly adding, “do you like to follow me in your spare time?” 

“No! That would be, uh, super stalkerish. Which is bad. Very bad,” he waves his hands creating an air of space between the two, somehow being the most awkward MJ has seen him. She doesn’t say anything in return because she’d been staring at Peter, realizing that this was the first time she saw him in anything other than the miserable work attire they both had to don on for Utterly Ice Cream. Though he still had on khaki jeans, Peter fashioned a loose-fitting graphic t-shirt that read _ I would tell you a Star Wars pun, but I wouldn’t want to FORCE it. _Nice. 

“What’s the book for? Thought you only liked comics.”

“It’s for someone else,” he sets his purchase on the coffee table to fix himself a hot chocolate. “And I don’t read _ just _comics! They’re just my favorite thing to read.”

“Mhm, sure.”

“I swear! I read books and stuff!” he pouts with puppy dog eyes–another habit MJ noticed about Peter aside from his incessant neck grabbing. This habit, however, makes her want to slam her head five times with the paperback in her hands because it’s simply just ridiculous that she’s way too nervous to be around Peter outside of work, especially after talking to Liz about him. It’s like verbally admitting her small attraction Peter multiplied by thousands.

“Anyway,” he mixes the packet of chocolate powder and hot water into a compostable cup, “I’m glad you found this bookstore, MJ. It’s one of my favorite places to go when I want to be alone. To do homework or read - not just comics.” 

“I’m glad I found it, too.” 

“Maybe it’ll be another place I’ll see you more often at,” he grabs his book with his empty hand, “but I gotta go. I’ll see you later, MJ.” 

MJ’s eyes follow Peter’s back as he walks away from her and down the stairs. She hears him say goodbye to Alfie and going out the door, and when he's completely out of the store, she releases a deep breath like she’d been underwater during their entire conversation, drowning in Peter’s voice. 

_ Just a crush, _ she repeats in her head the same way she did when she had to memorize Hamlet’s monologue sophomore year. Except, unlike that assignment that served no purpose to her except inducing her stage fright, MJ needed to instill in her head that liking someone – especially in the heat of the summer, the season of flings and quick romances – wasn’t good for her. 

It has been almost a week since the last time MJ and her family had a chance to eat a proper dinner together, something that Tammy promised they would do more often, but with her long hours as a caretaker combined with Eric’s and MJ’s sporadic shifts at their respective minimum jobs, it’s been hard. 

But when MJ returns from her exploration of her neighborhood, she’s welcomed by the aroma of spices brewing in the kitchen. She takes her shoes off before walking into the kitchen to greet Tammy with a kiss on the cheek, sitting on the table. 

“How was your day at work, Ma?” she inquires. Tammy, who had been a cook at a diner back home, found a job as a caregiver at a nonprofit living facility for seniors – both careers MJ believes are incredibly needed yet ridiculously underpaid. 

“Tiring. But the patients are sweet. And my co-workers are welcoming. It’s a lot different than standing in a kitchen for eight hours every day. Way better, I think. More fulfilling,” her mom continues to stir the pot of gumbo. “What’d you do today?” 

“Found a cool bookstore. Bought a smoothie. First paycheck celebrations are wild,” she responds. Her mother stops stirring the pot and walks over to the small table.

“Congratulations on your first paycheck, MJ,” she continues, “I’m happy you have income, so you can buy yourself things if you want. It really helps us a lot.” 

“Yeah,” MJ smiles solemnly at her mother, stomach curling because of the entire lifestyle change they have experienced. When they lived with her father, his career allowed all of them to live comfortably – comfortable enough for Eric to graduate high school without going into college for two years, but _ everything _happened, Tammy convinced Eric to at least attend community college, so he could figure out what he wanted for his future. The only problem was, it was another added expense that took a toll on their small family, so when her mother requests something from MJ, she’s not surprised. 

“Could you start splitting the house bills with me? Gas and electric. It won’t be too bad, just an average $35 per month for all of it. Unless we start using our utilities more than usual.” 

A part of MJ is frustrated for never being able to be comfortable without constantly worrying about not being able to pay for something, for never being able to make her own money for fun, for having to provide funds to survive through the month. It’s a frustration that feels empty when she wants to do something about it because it’s not her mother’s fault, nor is it her brother’s. It’s the world and how royally fucked over they were given the circumstances. It’s capitalism and the increasing prices of literally every luxury and necessity. But it’s frustration all the same, and when it’s let out, it becomes misconstrued and transformed into fighting words and feelings. 

“I can’t believe I’m seventeen and I have to pay for bills,” she slips. 

“I know sweetie, but–”

“This is all such bullshit. This is unfair. I shouldn’t have to be doing this,” MJ buries her head against the table. “You already have my child support money.” 

“I know, but we’re just settling in, and we have to get a lot of furniture and appliances, and we have to make sacrifices for a while.” 

“Feels like all I know how to do now is sacrifice,” MJ’s voice is muffled by the cloth of her light sweater. “Eric doesn’t even do shi- anything.”

“He’s working full time at the Deli, and he’s going to be taking community college soon, and he needs all the income he can get. Michelle, it’ll just be for a little bit.” 

“Okay,” she looks at Tammy and leans into her shoulder. 

* * *

Tuesday’s shift isn’t all that swell. For some reason, the last day of June gave the residents of the surrounding neighborhood a motive to visit the shop and make MJ actually do her job, from serving ice cream to fixing the puddles of melted dairy on the floor after each round of dine-in customers tactlessly leave their trash and mess before leaving. 

The day only picks up when Peter clocks in and replaces their rather timid co-worker, Danny. MJ didn’t mind Danny, though. She enjoyed the stillness in between each rush that day and would rather avoid exerting more small talk; she hoped Danny felt the same way. But suddenly, when Peter punches in his employee number and walks to the counter proudly fashioning the cow-themed clothing, her energy spikes. MJ didn’t show it, though. 

“I couldn’t stop listening to that song you played last week,” Peter starts the conversation. “Been on repeat all weekend.” 

“You should listen to more of her music. It’s all really good.”

“I’ll put it on my to-do list. You’re into music? Do you sing or anything?” 

“No. I mean not like… real singing.”

“What kind of singing _ isn’t _ real? I sing all the time! I’m not very good, though. I minimize my vocals for showers. The shampoo bottles really love my voice.” 

“I bet the acoustics there are great,” she jokes. “I had a guitar, but I had to sell it for the move.” 

The cheerfulness of the conversation withers away when MJ accidentally reminds herself of needing to sell a lot of her things to help save money for their house’s security deposit. 

“MJ?” 

“Oh, what? Sorry, I spaced out for a second…” 

“I just asked why, that’s all,” he explains. MJ looks at him, his eyes filled with genuine curiosity, and she’s reminded of the way she had been compelled to tell him about her life in their short-lived car ride home last week. She didn’t think she’d be offering such a delicate piece of information to him in the middle of an ice cream shop, but she does anyway, regardless of how embarrassed she was for discussing her family’s level of wealth, or lack thereof. 

“I needed to help my mom with some money,” she starts, “we really needed to move out as soon as possible because my dad cheated on my mom and she wanted to just, you know, get the fuck out of there. As she should.” 

She lets it out casually, but Peter’s reaction is solemn and compassionate, not overdoing the commiseration that results from discovering someone’s traumatic event, unlike a lot of people who suffocate MJ with their constant need to check up on her. Although it’s a great gesture, it’s a gesture that only pushes MJ through a wave of self-pity and guilt for burdening others with her troublesome situation. 

“That’s awesome of you to help your mom out. You’re a great daughter,” he says – not even once prying for more information about the death of her parents’ relationship, which somehow convinces her to keep going. 

“I do it cause I have to. If I don’t, I feel guilty. And I already feel guilty because I’m the one that found out he was cheating in the first place,” she responds nonchalantly. “So it’s kind of my fault that the family fell apart.” 

Peter turns his body completely face MJ, face tenser than the lighthearted affirmation he’d given her previously. 

“That’s not your fault at all,” he frowns. And MJ knows that - she tries to tell herself every day that it isn’t. But the way her mind works doesn’t allow her to believe it. And if she can’t even believe it from herself, how could she listen to anyone who tells her this? From Liz to her mother and now, Peter. She decides to cut the vulnerability off at that moment. 

“I can’t take you seriously when you’re wearing a cow on your head,” she changes the subject. He catches on.

“You’re wearing the exact same thing,” he places his hand on his chest as if he were offended. 

“And I can pull it off a lot better.” 

“I can’t argue against that,” he shrugs. “You’re probably right.” 

“I _ am _right. That’s just the universal truth of life.” 

“I’m learning so much about you,” Peter beams, “even if you might be a ghost or a figment of my imagination, ‘MJ’ - if that really is your name.” 

“It’s not. But it is,” she raises one eyebrow. “I probably don’t exist. But it’s that part in the story where I don’t realize it yet.” 

“I hope you never realize it. Cause you’re pretty cool,” he examines the ice cream flavors, “I mean… I’d be way more bored at work if you weren’t here.” 

MJ pulls back the tug of a sheepish smile, keeping her serious composure as a front. There may or may not have been butterflies in her stomach, but she’d never admit it. 

* * *

The next few days of work came and went. MJ had another shift with Peter, and she started to become more comfortable talking to him, a friendship forming right before her eyes. Maybe it wasn’t so bad moving away from her hometown; maybe making friends would be different this time around. 

And yes, a part of her was attracted to him; attracted to the way talking to him was _ easy _ \- sometimes she felt it was easier than talking to Liz now, their phone calls becoming less frequent, which was really neither of their faults. MJ just didn’t want to keep hearing about the stories she was no longer a part of, and Liz started to understand. It was hard, like everything else that waterfalled from the divorce: the move, her brother’s sudden distance from her, the endless bills, and just - everything. Except for Peter. 

He laughed at her dry humor, he asked her about music, and he listened to her when she’d spiral into a deep pit of frustrations about her life. Although MJ’s vulnerability toward people was few and far between, she had opened up to Peter quickly. Maybe it was the fact that he didn’t know her from the beginning, that she could have a fresh start with a stranger and confide in someone she somehow felt she could trust right away, or maybe it was the fact that he seemed to understand, to empathize with her, and to validate her feelings. 

Peter was sweet, and she liked it - as _ friends _ of course, even if she felt like she could stare into his eyes forever or listen to his laugh on repeat. That information, she planned to keep to herself. But sometimes plans don’t work out the way you want them to. 

On the 4th of July, Tammy, Eric, and MJ made their way across the street to the Brant Residence, the house significantly twice the size of their little box. The house was blue with white shutters, similar to the one that Ryan Gosling built for Rachel McAdams in _ The Notebook_. And when MJ met Betty’s parents, she learned that their love for each other was similar, too. 

Betty’s parents have been married for 19 years, but they met and fell in love in college six years prior to that. They had Betty two years after they were married; she was an only child, which wasn’t a surprise to MJ because whenever they hung out, there were just some things that Betty didn’t understand if MJ talked about her issues with Eric. But then again, there are a lot of things Betty just wouldn’t understand about MJ. Because although Betty was a complete sweetheart, her parents were still married, she had her own car, and she had never really struggled with anything growing up. 

“We’re _ comfortable_,” Betty said once when MJ commented on how lucky she had been to get a white Lexus for her 16th birthday. At least Betty was humble, never looking down on MJ for having a smaller house or having a single parent. Instead, she welcomed MJ into her home for the 4th of July when she learned it was MJ’s favorite night of the summer, her favorite holiday. 

The Brants hosted a barbecue every year inviting their cousins whose names MJ couldn’t be bothered to remember, but Betty invited her best friend, Cindy, and her family, too. 

“I heard you’re going to Midtown too,” Cindy pulls MJ into a hug, excited and welcoming. When she felt MJ stiffen, she let go quickly. 

“Yup,” MJ nods as they make their way to Betty’s backyard. There’s a seating area decorated with a gazebo and lights next to the grill, where Mr. Brant had been cooking hot dogs and burgers. 

“I already gave her the spiel,” Betty adds. 

“Ahh… Yeah, it’s interesting, to say the least. You just have to surround yourself with okay people. Luckily you have me and Betty,” she brings her hands under her chin and grins. 

“Very lucky,” MJ returns. MJ thinks of Peter, too, but doesn’t mention him. She thinks about how he’d told her he can be the familiar face she’ll see first in school and wonders if he’d actually keep that intention. If there was one thing about Peter she couldn’t quite crack, it was his intentions. Did he talk to her solely to fill up the silence of a miserable minimum wage job? Or did he actually enjoy talking to her? Were their conversations significant? Or did he put that much effort into everyone he talked to?

“What’s on your mind, MJ?” Betty snaps her out of her spiral. MJ blinks. 

“Nothing,” she lies. She looks to Cindy and Betty intently. Maybe they’d be helpful, but she wouldn’t risk mentioning Peter’s name. “Well, okay. I just have a crush on this guy, but um, he’s back home. I met him before leaving… And he’s just - he’s sweet. Like he listens to me a lot. I felt like I could open up to him, and sometimes, I can feel like he might feel some way toward me by the way he talks to me… I’m just confused, I guess.” 

“Oh,” Cindy responds. “Well, guys have like, one brain cell. So I guess if he puts in a lot of effort in talking to you, it has to mean something.” 

“Agreed. But also, I wouldn’t be the first one to say something unless you know for sure he’s trying something other than getting to know you. Or else it would be embarrassing. Right, Cind?” Betty giggles.

“Shut up. We don’t speak about that.” 

MJ doesn’t ask. The two were right; if Peter did want something more than just a friendship, it would have to be more obvious. She couldn’t compare how Peter acted toward her with how he acted toward anyone else, but she knew for a fact she wouldn’t say anything to Cindy or Betty. 

She shakes off the thought of Peter for the rest of the evening, focusing on the delicious barbecue Mr. Brant prepared and Betty’s cute dogs running around and chasing each other. As the sun went down, Betty started a bonfire and they gathered around to watch the fireworks from the other houses in the neighborhood; Betty’s parents only allow sparklers. 

Betty hands her polaroid camera to Eric so the three of them can take a photo. The moment it finishes developing, Betty looks at it and laughs. 

“You can keep this one,” she hands it to MJ. 

And for the first time since moving to Jericho, MJ feels like she belongs somewhere. 

* * *

Her high from a good weekend ended quickly when Peter came into work that following Monday without greeting her like he’d always do, his hair undone and eyes nursing dark circles. When he stations himself by the ice cream flavors, he’s quiet. She wants to ask him what’s wrong, to offer herself if he needs anyone to talk to because he’d been so attentive to her the week before. But she doesn’t ask. Instead, she tries to change the subject of the conversation his body language was giving off. 

“Do anything fun on Saturday?” 

He exhales through his nose. “Not really, no.” 

“You don’t like the holiday?”

“Something came up.” 

“Oh, okay. Is everything okay?” she tries. 

“I’d really just rather focus on work today,” his answer overlapping her question even though the store has no customers inside. 

“Yeah, cause it’s really busy right now,” she returns with the same serious tone Peter’s been hosting since he stepped inside. It snaps him out of his mood.

“Sorry, MJ. I don’t mean to be rude. I just don’t really feel like talking.” It was understandable. He looks like a mess, like he hadn’t slept in days, like he should have taken the morning off instead of forcing himself to go to work. 

She doesn’t say another word after that. 

MJ was convinced that whatever being in the universe had been compelled to make her work with Peter for the next two shifts wanted to put her through hell. As she clocked into each shift, she noticed Peter dark circles become more prominent, his voice hoarse interacting with customers despite the fact that he still put on a customer service charm when doing so. 

She knew it had nothing to do with her, but she couldn’t help but feel personally offended that he couldn’t fake a friendly employee charm with her like he did to whoever strolled into the ice cream shop for dessert. 

There had been a few attempts to get him to talk by mentioning something funny she’d heard while her brother was sneaking another girl in or a new song suggestion. But all Peter returns was a brief chuckle and a promise to listen to it. Nothing more. 

It bothers MJ, she can’t lie. She hadn’t done anything wrong, it was incredibly unfair for Peter to dump whatever the hell he’d been going through on her. In her initial reaction, she didn’t want to invade his privacy or bother him. Clearly, he hadn’t been happy about something. It wasn’t MJ’s business, but his overt distance from her for absolutely no reason boiled in her head until their closing shift on Thursday, when the hot water spilled out into an emotionally-charged accusation. 

“You know, just because you’re not having the best week ever, you don’t have to be so rude to me,” she finishes turning the keys of the front of the store. 

“MJ–”

“Like, I go through shit all the time; hell, I’m going through shit every day, and I still tried to be nice to you.” 

“MJ, you’re right.”

She blinks. 

“I always am… but why?” she squints her eyes under the fluorescent light of the storefront sign. 

“I’m sorry I’ve been weird. It’s just…” he fumbles with the keys to his car. “Well, do you ever feel like you do so much for people, yet it never seems to satisfy them?” 

She thinks of her mother, who’s always pushing her to do more to help around. 

“Yeah, I do.” 

“Well, I’ve just… Been exerting a lot of energy this week doing that - to prove that I’m worthy of satisfaction and… and when I get to work, I’m just so tired of _ trying_. So I didn’t. I thought you’d be okay with it because you know, you’re like… super understanding and cool and just, honestly, a breath of fresh air sometimes.” 

There’s a beat of silence as Peter rolls his neck around, releasing the tension in his bones. She exhales. “I’m sorry for assuming you’d be okay with it. It’s not considerate of me.” 

“It’s okay, Peter. Whatever’s happening, I hope it all works out.”

“I don’t know if I even want it to. But thank you,” he takes the cow hat off and runs his fingers through his hair. She can’t help but watch. “Did you need a ride home?” 

“Yeah. That’d be nice.” 

As he pulls out of the parking lot, the songs she’d suggested throughout the week play through his radio. Although he hadn’t talked to her at work, he didn’t stop paying attention to her, and that was kind of damn sweet. 

After he reaches her house, she lingers in the passenger seat for a minute. 

“Peter?”

“Yeah?"

“I’m sorry for yelling. I just…”

“Don’t apologize, MJ. I was being a jerk this week.” 

“Yeah,” she tells the truth. “But I still want to apologize. You had a rough week, and I kind of made it worse?” 

“No, you didn’t,” he pushes out a tired, yet thankful gaze. “Thanks for the music recs by the way. You should send me more.” 

Her heart jumps. He holds his hand out and gestures to her phone. She hands it over, and after a few seconds of typing, he returns it. 

“Goodnight, MJ,” he says as she walks out of the car. When he drives far enough away, she walks inside her house and unlocks her phone and to his contact information. 

There’s a cow emoji by his name. 

* * *

They spend the entire weekend texting each other. Sometimes, they text endlessly for a span of time, but other times, it’ll take Peter a while to respond. But he still does, and he sends multiple messages at once. And it makes her smile when she sees the little cow emoji pop up on her screen. 

**Peter: **so you’ve never been to the city before?? even when u were younger, like for vacation? 

**MJ: **Nope.

**MJ: **I’d never been outside of Massachusetts until I moved.

**Peter: **u HAVE to go soon. It’s right there!!!

**MJ: **My mom’s pretty strict. She likes me to be accessible to her if she needs me. And she doesn’t like if I get too distracted. 

**MJ: **Actually, this summer has been the most she’s let me out. But I have to be home by 10:30 all the time. 

**Peter: **ok i guessss… but you should still go one day.

**Peter: **it sucks that your mom is strict. but it’s because she loves you :)

**MJ: **Yeah. True. 

**Peter: **i just finished watching 13 going on 30 with my aunt

**Peter: **:’)

**MJ: **You like rom coms?

**Peter: **favorite genre!!! it’s my comfort movie.

**Peter: **there’s just something about it

**Peter: **what’s your comfort movie? 

**MJ: **I don’t really have one. I have a comfort show, though.

**MJ: **Bob’s Burgers. 

**Peter: **bobbbbyyyyyy

  
  


“Who are you talking to that makes you smile like an idiot?” Eric clicks through the cable channels interrupting MJ’s virtual conversation.

“None of your business,” she returns to her phone.

“Jeez, what’s up your butt?” 

“Nothing. It’s just none of your business. I don’t ask about the handful of girls you’ve brought in here while Mom’s at work. Which you should stop fucking doing, by the way.”

“What are you gonna do? Tell Mom? Because that’s the one thing you know how to do?” 

“Seriously, Eric?” 

“You’re just jealous that you don’t get nut.”

“I’m 17, Eric. I don’t need nut,” she gets up and leaves the futon in their living room. 

  
  


**MJ: **My brother’s such an ass. 

**Peter: **what happened? 

**MJ: **He hates me for no reason.

**Peter: **i’m sure he doesn’t hate you, em

**MJ: **em?

**Peter: **em jay. mj.

**MJ: **You can call me Em. 

**MJ: **:-)

* * *

As weeks pass on, their texting became less frequent; there hadn’t been a great conversation as the one they had when they initially exchanged numbers - just a few exchange of songs peppered across the weeks, during the days when they didn’t work together. And at work, Peter’s moods would fluctuate. 

Despite not knowing the real cause of his mood, she figured their friendship was a great escape for Peter to not think about what was happening in his life. MJ didn’t want to burden him with questions revolving around whoever was hurting Peter in that way. She knew he didn’t deserve that treatment, but at the same time, it wasn’t her place to tell him that. Plus, their shifts together were becoming more and more rare, and MJ didn’t want to spend those hours with Peter making him uncomfortable with talking about something he didn’t bring up in the first place. 

By the time August rolls around, MJ’s become more antsy about the start of school at the end of the month. She decides to call Liz for the first time since the middle of July.

_ “Hey stranger,” _she says. It hurts more than MJ lets on.

“Hi Liz. How’s everything?” 

“_Same old, _” her best friend answers. Although MJ had previously returning uninterested exclamations when Liz would talk about their friends, the coldness in Liz’s voice began to hurt more than the feeling of missing out on their shenanigans.

“Ready for school?” she tries harder.

“_Yeah. It’ll be weird without you, though _.” 

“Yeah… I miss you.”

“_I miss you more. Hey, what if… you know what, nevermind.” _

“No, what?”

_ “What if I come there for the weekend? Before school starts?” _

“Oh my God. Liz. Please do it.”

“_I can talk to my mom about it.” _

“You already know it’s a yes from mine. I can show you around ye old neighborhood. And show you my work.”

“_And that cute Peter guy? How is that by the way?” _

“I think we’re just friends. I can’t tell. I just really like talking to him. I don’t know. We don’t text as much as a couple weeks ago, though. It’s really...confusing,” she tries to explain her crush on him, but she can’t even describe it herself. When she first met Peter, he had just been eye candy, but almost two months later, she finds herself laying in bed wanting to reread their message threads over and over again, even if it wasn’t blatant flirting. 

Their conversations had substance, like every message Peter sent he’d put extra care into talking to her, carefully crafted from start to finish. That had to be something, MJ was almost sure of it. It didn’t have to be romantic, but the fact that he’d put effort into getting to know MJ made her feel like jello, soft and vibrant. 

And as if talking about Peter summoned him, MJ noticed his contact name come up on her screen as a phone call. Except she’d never talked to him on the phone before. It must have been an emergency, or urgent. Her heart races. What if something had gone wrong? What if he needed help? 

“Liz, I have another call on the line, I’ll talk to you later. Let me know what your mom says,” she quickly ends their conversation. “Love you.”

_ “Love you too. Bye MJ.” _

She didn’t hang up her phone fast enough, and the call from Peter was missed. Not one minute after, he calls again. 

“Peter? Everything okay?”

_ “Hey. Yeah, everything’s good. Um, well, I don’t have work today. And neither do you, right?” _

“No...” she answers.

_ “Do you have any plans?” _

MJ looks at the clock. It’s half past noon, and her mother’s about to leave for work in an hour. 

“No, I don’t.”

_“Go to the city with me.” _

“What?”

_ “I’ll pick you up.” _

“I told you that my mom’s not going to say yes.”

_ “Don’t worry, I can convince her. I’ll be there soon. Get ready!” _

He ends the call. She lets out a deep breath, processing the conversation (if you could call it that) she just had with Peter. Peter, her co-worker she started to crush on. Peter, who had been pretty bad at texting lately. Peter, who called her on a random Saturday afternoon and asked her to go to the city with him, not really leaving her a chance to say no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if it's somewhat of a slow start. I really wanted to work on MJ's character and really flesh everyone out. There's going to be more Midtown action once school starts, and this is probably the longest chapter before everything starts to ~*happen*~
> 
> Like always, comments are appreciated. 
> 
> Oh, and I kind of made a Twitter. 
> 
> Follow me @sspideysmj and we can cry about petermj together if you want. :)


	2. part two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said the first chapter would be the longest, but I'll be averaging the same amount of words for each part so you are all fed with what I have planned for this universe.

MJ replays the last few minutes in her head over and over again, wanting to rewind and experience the phone call once more, to listen to the urgency in his voice and figure out why he asked her to go to the city with him – it’s interesting.

He talked to her a lot the weekend after he asked for MJ’s number, each of his responses making her grin like an idiot, making her stomach turn into bundles of nerves, making her put her phone down and take a breath before thinking of a reply. Peter’s messages were never suggestive of another meaning, mostly filled with long replies regarding the movie or music recommendations she’d offer him or questions about what MJ’s life was like in Belmont. 

But still.

Peter made her feel like someone cared about her and gave her a reason to become more of an open book. Then, they slowed down on their conversations, only sending links to different songs or various personality quizzes she’d discovered during her shifts at work without him. She didn’t want to be bothered by it, but she was always left pondering different explanations as to why MJ got used to his lazy responses and stopped putting in the effort to continue the conversation. 

MJ sits on her bed, looking at her color-coded closet, thinking of what to wear. She despises the way she’d taken more than her usual five minutes to decide on her outfit, usually mindlessly picking colors that don’t clash and clothes appropriate for the weather. When MJ finally grabs a short-sleeved, floor-length summer dress, she sinks back onto her mattress, debating on whether or not her mom would even let her go to the city with someone she didn’t really know. 

She never even talks about Peter to anyone but Liz, fearful that if she brings more people in on her secret, it’d manifest into a bigger feeling than it actually is. Her gut is turning as she wonders how Tammy will react when a teenage boy shows up on her doorstep asking her permission to whisk her daughter away from the day, sighing at the way her mother embeds traditional values in everyday life knowing that because of what’s happened in the past few months, their family was anything but traditional. 

There’s a faint sound of the dingy doorbell, and MJ runs by her window to take a peek at Peter before going downstairs. Maybe she should just stay in her room and watch the rejection from Tammy unfold without physically being there. It’d be a lot easier to stomach. 

Peter’s wearing denim jeans and another graphic tee, MJ noting that maybe that’s his particular style. She finds it adorable knowing he gets amusement from corny jokes, which isn’t a surprise to MJ at all. His car is double-parked in front of their driveway, engine still running – which is probably really bad for the battery. He’s holding a tray wrapped in foil as he walks up to her front door, but she loses sight of him with the roof blocking her view.

“Michelle!” her mom calls her right on cue. She braces herself, dress still in the clutches of her hands before she runs downstairs to meet her fate. 

“What’s up, Ma?” she walks halfway down, peeping her head out of the wall blocking the top half of the staircase. She nods at Peter, greeting him with luck. 

“_Peter _ tells me you have plans to go to Brooklyn today?” Tammy places her hands on her hips. “You didn’t say anything.” 

“That’s funny,” she mirrors her mom’s posture, “I swear I mentioned it the other day.” 

“You must be thinking of another mother,” Tammy responds, “because you know you can’t ask about these things last minute expecting a yes.” 

“Right,” MJ prolongs her vowels. “Well, Peter, it looks like you can’t show me around the area. How unfortunate, I thought it was a great chance to celebrate being here for two months now, and all.” 

“Right, two months tomorrow,” her mother mumbles. 

“My Aunt made you a pie, too,” he adds, handing Tammy the baked good. “She’s gotten really into baking lately, it’s her new hobby. She has a new one once a month, though.” 

“That’s very sweet, Peter, but you’ll have to plan this some other time.” 

“Mom, I don’t even have anything planned today,” MJ fights. “We’re not doing incriminating things. We’re just going to the city.” 

“Michelle.” MJ scoffs at the use of her full name. 

“It’s okay, MJ,” Peter interrupts their bickering. “Sorry, Ms…” 

“You can call me Tammy, honey.” 

“I’m sorry, Tammy,” he continues. “MJ just told me the other day that she’s feeling a little uneasy about starting at Midtown – all those AP classes while being a new student… I thought taking her into the city would make her feel a little more like a New York native, but I understand.” 

Tammy sighs, looking back and forth between her daughter and Peter, holding the home-made pie. “Alright.” 

MJ’s sulk transforms into a hopeful gaze. 

“Have her back by 10:30 tonight,” Tammy instructs Peter, whose nodding at her. “Be safe.” 

“I just have to grab some stuff,” MJ says to the both of them.

“I can wait in the car,” Peter backs away from the living room and out of the house, Tammy closing the door behind him. 

MJ races up the stairs doing her best to slip on the dress she’d been holding, followed by grabbing her keys and wallet and stuffing them into a small handbag. She looks at herself in the mirror one more time, still feeling average, yet reluctant to take any measures to fix his appearance knowing that she’d never do this for anyone else and Peter isn’t going to make her change that. 

On her way out of the house, Tammy stops her. Her mother’s changed into scrubs now, her shift starting in just 30 minutes.

“Sweetie,” she starts, blocking the door behind her. “You can’t just keep things from me. We’re supposed to be a team.” 

MJ bites her lip, holding back from explaining that Peter only called her fifteen minutes before arriving at their doorstep, knowing that if she tells Tammy, she wouldn’t be able to go on the day trip.

“I know, Mom. I just… I want to have fun for once. I’m always just working or holed up at home. I’m tired of being friends with authors.” 

“You have Betty, and her other friend, Sarah?” 

“It’s Cindy,” she corrects Tammy. “And I know! They just… sometimes they don’t understand.” 

“And this _ boy _ does? How do you even know him?” 

MJ gulps. “It’s not because he’s a boy, Ma. He’s just nice, and he’s from work. And he wants to be my _ friend_.” 

Tammy cups MJ’s cheek, dragging her thumb across her face. “Just… take care of yourself.” 

“I will,” she places a quick kiss on her mom’s cheek before heading out the door. As she slips into Peter’s Camry, adjusts the passenger seat, and settles in, she looks out of the window, the view of her mother getting smaller and smaller as he drives away. 

MJ rests her elbow on top of the open window feeling the sticky August airflow through the car, still thinking of the way she’d left her mother less than delighted about going out with Peter, though she could never really completely please her mother anyway. She could score the next touchdown or make the final shot of the championship, but she’ll never be the MVP of their team. 

“So, Michelle?” Peter breaks the silence, addressing her by the name she’d never introduced to him. She sighs.

“Yup,” she pops.

“What’s the J?” 

MJ drops her elbow from the window, turning to Peter whose hands are on the 9 and 3 positions, eyes on the road, taking Tammy’s warning of safety very seriously. 

“It’s Jones. My last name. Or it was.” 

“Michelle Jones. That has a really great ring to it,” he says.

“Yeah, I guess, if you want to carry the last name of a cheater.” 

“Yeah, I get it. But it’s still _ your _ name,” he continues, “you can give it the meaning _ you _want.” 

There’s a loud crash of the wind as they enter the highway, Peter rolling up the windows and turning on the air conditioning. 

“But MJ is nice too,” he adds, flashing a smile that shines brighter than the beating sun, causing her turn away, cautious of the risky business of looking at Peter Parker’s face for too long. Her stomach twitches as she bites down on her lip. 

“Where are we even going?” she asks. 

“Where would you like to go?” 

She hums, tilting her head at the idea of New York City. There’s a lot about the Big Apple she’s heard – an abundance of tourist attractions and busy streets and iconic foods. None of it really appeals to her, MJ never wanting to be in big crowds. She’s not exactly sure what she wanted from the city, always assuming that Tammy would eventually drag her and Eric out on a day where their schedules aligned. But being on her own? With Peter at the wheel of his small car and the low volume of her favorite songs filling the silence of the drive?

It's a new feeling, a new situation she’d never thought she’d ever experience much less be _asked _what she wanted to do. 

“Something… lowkey,” she answers. “None of that Statue of Liberty stuff.” 

“Ah yes, I pretty much expected that from you,” he responds. She looks at him again, his smile ever so charming. It’s ridiculous, she thinks. 

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” he rests his left elbow on the window, driving with one wheel now. “You spend hours at Alfie’s Bookstore, you introduce me to new artists every other week. It’s hard to figure you out, but at the same time, that’s… who you are.”

“Is that a bad thing?” she turns her body, leaning against the passenger seat slightly more relaxed than when they had pulled out of her neighborhood.

“No,” he sputters. “No, never. I just, I don’t know. It sounded a lot better in my head.”

And there it is, the little moments MJ would catch Peter stumbling over his words – a reminder that his demeanor from speaking to flirtatious customers at work turns off when he steps out of the pink apron and cow cap.

“I’m just kidding,” she says. 

“Good,” he sighs of relief. “I didn’t wanna sound like an ass. I was raised better than that.” 

She snorts, resting her back on the seat again. “And how were you raised, Parker?” 

“My aunt always tells me to be open-minded and aware of what others are going through. Compassion, all that,” he smiles as he changes lanes. It’s something that MJ has noticed, Peter’s aunt. He mentions her often, raising questions to MJ – questions that MJ doesn’t know if she can even ask Peter. Although MJ’s opened up to him, it had been at her own will to tell Peter about her past, about her father. And if Peter’s parents aren’t around, if there’s something behind the way his eyes glisten with pride when he talks about his Aunt May, he’ll tell MJ if he wants to. 

She peers over to him again, his eyes shifting in her direction for a quick moment. “It’s hard to be compassionate when life’s always kicking you in the ass.” 

“Life’s always gonna kick you in the ass,” he responds. “There’s gotta be a reason that keeps you going, you know?”

MJ squints at him, tilting her head. He lets out a short breath, eyes dressed with a look that she can’t decode, something swimming in the depth of his light brown eyes. There, in the passenger seat of his Camry on the way to the city, she realizes there’s a lot of Peter Parker she has yet to discover.   
  


* * *

  
“Did you eat lunch already?” he hops out of his car once they settle in the third parking garage scattered in Brooklyn, the commute and search for a parking spot taking nearly two hours of their afternoon. 

“I had a late breakfast,” she gets out of the passenger side, stretching her legs from the cramped car ride. 

“Okay, good. We got a lot of stuff to do,” he closes the trunk of his car after putting on a small backpack. He nods to the exit of the parking garage, stuffing his hands in his pockets while leading the way. She’s not surprised Peter had actually planned the day ahead despite asking her earlier what she’d wanted to do, knowing that they both had clear expectations of how the other worked.

It’s strange – the way the two blended so easily as if they were created on the same frequency and happened to tune into each other at a locally praised ice cream store, yet there’s still a bit of static in between them. Peter asks her questions, wants to know more about MJ and does his best to be kind and open-minded, but there’s something about him that she can’t decipher. There’s more to him and finding out might not be the best choice for her. 

The walk to Peter’s secret location is quiet, but comfortable. She takes in her environment – the endless concrete streets, people walking with purpose, and the persistent honking from angry taxi cabs. It’s everything she expected the city to feel like.

“What do you think?” he waits for MJ to catch up, walking next to her with his hands still tucked into his jeans like a way to save the distance between the two. She crosses her arms, clutching the straps of the small bag carrying her essentials. 

“It’s completely different from Nassau County,” she exclaims, trying to keep up with his fast pace. Peter navigates the streets with ease, evident he’s here frequently. “And Belmont.” 

“Yeah,” he leads her to turn a corner. “Me and my best friend, Ned, love going here. Now that we’re old enough to get jobs, we like running away from Jericho when we have the chance.” 

“It’s nice to run away for the day,” she smiles at Peter, who stumbles over his own feet when he returns the grin, finding balance at the last minute. 

“Yeah,” his cheeks flush as he pats his jeans in embarrassment. He turns around, hiding his blush as he lifts his arms in the air. “We’re here. First stop.” 

MJ’s taken aback at the initial lack of a _ real _destination until she looks past Peter’s excited face, noticing walls painted with murals of different art styles. The art brought color into the permanently grey streets and dull brick walls, some paintings being 30 feet high and others framing the entrances of hole in the wall shops. 

“Wow,” she lets out. 

“This is Bushwick Collective,” Peter lets his arms fall to his sides, gesturing MJ to walk forward. “The entire neighborhood has art on the walls. We can just walk through, look at all the walls and stuff. Whatever you want.” 

MJ takes it all in, the diverse forms of art plastered on the walls. There’s no structure to stick to, no rules to follow, making her feel as free as ever while she admires every street Peter guides her toward. He slides his backpack off his shoulders, balancing it on his thigh as he unzips it to bring out a film camera. 

“You’re into photography?” she asks. 

“I dabble,” he slings the camera strap around his neck. “This was my uncle’s. I started getting really into it after my freshman year.” 

Peter fiddles with the settings before he starts snapping pictures of the walls, cars, and one of MJ.

“I wasn’t ready,” she frowns.

“Doesn’t matter,” he continues walking. “Do you have a favorite yet?” 

“Hm?” she turns to him.

“Favorite wall,” he explains. MJ paces forward, looking around her until she finds one that calls to her. On a black wall rests a collection of neon yellows, purples, and pinks in the shape of imaginary animals, but as the painting moves to the left, it blends into a roaring tiger in blended shades of brown, white, and black. It’s fierce and colorful all at once.

The mural sparks something inside her, something akin to a calling or desire to look into herself more. It’s the same spark that pushes her to read her books or scribble in her journal on the roof. 

Only when she hears the click of Peter’s camera did MJ realize she’d stopped right in front of the mural. “This one’s really great.” 

“Yeah,” he puts his camera down to look at her. “Beautiful.” 

* * *

They spent a good hour roaming around the Bushwick Collective, Peter snapping candids of her on his film camera. Each time she’d catch him click away, her skin warmed up with nerves and the sweat of the air, slowly regretting ever getting in the car with him. MJ could feel the intensity of her crush grow, becoming a heavier feeling in her heart that she doesn’t quite have space for.

Now, they were waiting in the line of a quaint coffee shop for a quick snack. MJ inches forward, nervous that Peter would pay for her, knowing that she would refuse the offer. She has her own paycheck, and she can’t let herself succumb to the stereotypical gesture of a guy paying for her on a date – even though this was far from a date. 

Peter’s her friend, wanting to show her around Brooklyn before starting school. More than anything, he’s a tour guide for MJ. What they were doing, despite the gravity of the concept of running away to the city together for a day, it didn’t feel like a date. There was something between them, something blocked her from reading Peter completely – a skill that she’d mastered for a long time. 

As much as she wanted to figure out how to overcome that barrier of being closer to Peter, of learning more about his past, his parents, and what keeps him up at night, she didn’t want to cross that street. She didn’t want to take that risk and dive headfirst into the depths of a person without knowing the consequences that lie beneath her actions. 

So she stays timid – guarded. Although she had opened herself up, she didn’t want to carry Peter’s experiences within her, knowing that once she learns more about him, everything could change between them. Summer’s end was around the corner, and she refuses to cause any problems with anyone before the school year starts in two weeks. 

To her relief, they ordered separately with MJ saving a table for them as they wait for the barista to call their names. Peter offers to grab both of their items and returns with that same grin that MJ’s been trying hard to avoid. They snack in silence, letting the outside conversations of other customers provide entertainment as they sipped on their lattes. She watches Peter scarf down his ham and cheese croissant in a matter of minutes, slightly disturbed at how he probably didn’t thoroughly chew his food. He must have been hungry. 

“So,” she starts. “How’ve you been?”

“Hm?” he looks up, wiping the flaky crumbs of bread from the corners of his mouth. 

“I mean, not gonna lie to you, Peter. This whole thing is kind of random,” she refers to their New York City getaway. “I know you have some stuff going on, and we haven’t really talked – which isn’t a bad thing or whatever, it doesn’t matter, it’s just…”

She shouldn’t have tried to start a conversation. But he chuckles. 

“I’m doing okay,” he answers, not acknowledging the way MJ stumbles on her words or the way she believes she’d overshared too much about her observations. Her ears are burning with embarrassment. “I just really needed to run away today, I guess.”

“With nearly a complete stranger?” she jokes.

“You’re not a stranger!” he reaffirms. “You’re MJ. And I don’t know, I guess being around you makes me feel like I can forget about a lot of the bullshit in my life. You’re very… real.” 

“Thanks?” she takes another sip of her coffee.

“Plus, assuming that I’m one of the first friends you’ve made before the school year - it’s nice knowing someone that not everyone knows. For now.” he crumples up his napkin and tosses it on the empty plate. “Don’t forget about me when cooler people want to be your friend at Midtown.” 

“I’m sorry, who are you again?” she jokes. He shakes his head, smiling. 

“Peter Parker? I had an appointment to have a quick conversation with Miss MJ.” 

“Hm, I think she canceled it. Something about you being not cool enough.” 

“Okay, I know this started as a joke, but now I’m kind of panicking,” Peter rubs the back of his neck. 

“I won’t forget about you, Peter,” she rolls her eyes. “You’re giving me too much credit as a new student at a school that I’ve heard only frightening things about.” 

“Okay, okay,” he backs off, jokingly. “You’ll be fine at school, MJ. Promise. Like I said, you have the ability to sniff out the bullshit.”

“I do my best,” she shrugs.

“I expect nothing less from you,” Peter shrugs back. He’s comforting, and MJ can’t help but think about the way he’d labeled her as a friend. She’s relieved from knowing where he stands by asking her to go out to Brooklyn, but a bit disappointing because she knows she can’t control her growing crush. After cleaning up their plates, MJ declares that this is the first and last time she’ll go out to the city with Peter knowing that being around him will only make her fall for him. And that’s something that’s absolutely not allowed whatsoever. 

It’s her last year in high school, knowing that 365 days from now she can be off to wherever graduation takes her. Hopefully, it’s California, MJ planning only to apply to universities on the west coast, wanting to escape the undeniably bland life she’s lived for the past seventeen years to a place of diversity and culture.

She has no plans to let anything or anyone come in the way of that goal. 

* * *

MJ can feel their day starting to end when the sun starts dimming around the evening. She loves the way the sun stands out for longer in the summer. Despite the humidity pressed against her skin, the warm rays piercing through the air always make her feel happier compared to the dark of autumn. Peter showed her the ways of the subway, noting different tips and tricks to navigate the underground system. It’s hard to keep up, knowing that MJ’s not going to be spending most of her days in the city.

Her legs are sore from walking around, but her heart is happy knowing she’s finally seeing something other than New York suburbia for the first time since moving two months ago. It’s momentous for her as Peter takes her walking across the Brooklyn Bridge, snapping photos of the skyline and a few of MJ. 

“Are you trying to put together a portfolio?” she asks, arms crossed as they make their way up and down the bridge. “It’d be a good reference if you want to do this in the future.”

He laughs. “It’s just a hobby I picked up. I don’t want to build a career off of it or anything.” 

“What do you want to do?” 

“I don’t know,” he snaps a picture of a bird picking at an abandoned pizza crust. “I’m applying to the Ivy's and MIT.” 

“Oh,” she lets out. She hadn’t been aware of just how intelligent Peter Parker was, but for someone with those aspirations, he must be smart. “I hope you get into them.” 

“What about you?” he puts his camera down, focusing on her answer.

“I just want to get out of the East coast,” she explains. “Berkeley would be nice. I hear a lot of good things about how liberal they are there.” 

“I hope you get in,” he repeats her. “So you can get out of here.” 

She nods at him with gratitude, knowing his comment is as genuine as he means. And although tomorrow marks only the second complete month of being in Jericho, MJ knows this isn’t the place for her. That there’s more to the world that she needs to see. Peter understands that, and from his few simple words of encouragement, MJ feels like she can do it – that she can get out of here. Because that’s all she wants to do.

* * *

As promised, Peter and MJ make their way back to their city before her mother’s assigned curfew. She feels her energy deflating on the car ride home with the passenger seat leaned all the way back as she stares at the ripped lining of fabric on the top of the car. There’s an unfamiliar song on the radio, Peter explaining that it’s one of his favorites to listen to on the ride home. There are no lyrics, but the emotions are there and MJ can feel it as much as the emotions on Peter’s face. 

When they pull up to her neighborhood, MJ’s reluctant to go inside her house. There are 20 minutes before the actual curfew. She stays in the seat, sighing. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing… It’s just,” she shifts her seat to sit upright. “Today was really nice. Thank you.” 

“Of course,” Peter turns off the engine of the car. In any moment like this from what MJ’s read, where the spontaneous getaway has ended and the two lovers return to the place that restricts their full potential, one would kiss the other. And MJ wants to kiss Peter, but she doesn’t because she can tell that he doesn’t feel the same way. That, or there’s something brewing inside of him that won’t let him. She can tell by the way he shifts in the driver’s seat with his hand still on the wheel, facing forward instead of looking at her. 

They’re barely friends. He doesn’t know her, and she doesn’t know him – despite how much she’d shared with him. And that’s okay, MJ thinks, because maybe all they’re meant to be is friends. Maybe they’ll be best friends. Maybe they’ll form a kind of relationship where they look at each other across the room because of something ridiculous happening. It’s what MJ needs, really, despite the fact that Peter’s voice makes her heart do the stupid thing that she thought it would never do. 

His phone starts to ring, snapping her out of the evident staring she’d been doing, only realizing that they hadn’t spoken for nearly ten minutes. Time seems to go by quickly around him. It’s unfair.

“Hey, May,” he answers. There’s a panicked murmur from the other end of the line. “May, hold on, hold on. I’ll be home before midnight.” 

MJ feels as if she’s intruding the conversation although she’s not listening to his aunt.

“I know it’s a tradition, May. I’m not going to be late. I’ll be back before 11, promise.” 

She raises her brow in curiosity.

“Yes, I’ll get Ned, too.” There’s a long pause from Peter. “No… it’s just Ned. Bye, May. Love you.” 

He hangs up the phone and turns to MJ. “Hate to cut it short, but I gotta go.” 

“It’s okay,” she unbuckles her seatbelt. “I’m home right on time. Mom will give you brownie points because it’s 10 minutes before.”

“Hopefully, I’ll get enough brownie points so Mom doesn’t hate me for taking you away today.”

“She’ll get over it.” He starts the engine of the Camry again as MJ opens the door. “I hope you have fun with whatever tradition you have over there.” 

He laughs, his hand pressed on his neck again. “May likes eating cake right at midnight on my birthday.” 

MJ can’t help but leave her mouth agape, shocked at the revelation of the event. “I didn’t know it was your birthday tomorrow.”

“I didn’t tell you,” he returns. “I’ll see you at work MJ.” 

“See you,” she curves her lips as she shuts the door. She walks to her house, unlocking the door, and only when she steps in does she hear the sound of Peter’s car speeding away. 

* * *

The work day is slow. Danny’s at the register, and MJ’s pacing in the backroom. His company is nice and comfortable, and his name reminds MJ of her friends back home even though they act nothing alike. Wayne’s supposed to come in to distribute their paychecks, but MJ can’t be bothered to do anything other than wait around for a customer to come in. She’d gained Wayne’s trust, doing everything that needed to be done in the ice cream shop, but she refuses to work any harder for a minimum wage job. 

It’s Tuesday, but she still can’t stop thinking about her and Peter’s adventure. Initially, she didn’t want to overthink the fact that it was basically a birthday celebration on Peter’s behalf, but when she talked to Liz the following morning, MJ was only more confused about everything.

_“Girl… that’s a pretty big deal,” _her best friend says. “_At least, I don’t know… If I were you, I’d be just as confused.” _

“Should I bring it up? What if he thinks it’s not a big deal? I don’t want to look like I care too much about it or him.” 

_ “I guess if you want to know what’s up, then bring it up. But if you don’t, then just forget about it. But I mean you really have to forget about it and stop overthinking like you always do,” _Liz jokes.

“Hey,” MJ scoffs. “I do not overthink.” 

“_Which is why this entire Peter thing is so different,” _ Liz continued, _ “You talk about him a lot.” _

“I don’t know… There’s something about him,” she paced her room, “It’s like I want to know more. And I know that we’d be so close if we had more time with each other. It’s like… a friend crush. Not a real crush.”

_“Sure,” _ Liz agreed. “_Just be careful, I guess. He seems like such a private person. It’s almost suspicious._”

“I have _ got _ to stop thinking about him,” MJ sighed, plopping on her bed. 

It’s true – MJ never gives boys the time of day, or anyone in general other than the people in her life that are already established. It’s taking her a while to ease up to Betty, who’s been persistent about hanging out again, ever since the 4th of July. It’s not that MJ didn’t want to spend time with Betty or Cindy – it’s that she figures the two girls would be her only friends in Midtown and she’d rather spend the last week of summer saving her energy for having to introduce herself to an abundance of nosy high school students once the year begins. 

Plus, Liz is coming in just three days – which is all she really needs right now. 

Wayne comes in rather stressed, tossing his satchel in the backroom and shuffling through the sad looking cabinet of paperwork. 

“Hey Wayne,” she greets. “Everything all good?” 

“I have extra paperwork to file today because your wonderful co-worker, Peter, is quitting this week,” he sighs. A pinch of MJ’s emotions deflate, but she hides it well. “End of summer’s always the worst. Tell me you’re not leaving me.” 

“I’m not,” she says, thinking about how the hell she’ll balance a job, college applications, and terrible social anxiety for the fall semester. “Gotta keep making money.” 

“You’re my favorite. Don’t tell Danny over there,” he whispers. 

“Thanks. Maybe this might not be the right time to tell you that Danny is covering for me this entire weekend,” she informs him. 

“It’s all good,” he says, scribbling on sheets of paper that MJ could care less about looking at. When the door opens, the lousy cowbell ring welcomes a new customer. MJ makes her way back to the front of the store to help Danny, whose significantly less chipper than Peter when talking to the two middle schoolers ordering banana floats. 

He doesn’t use the tacky cow puns that Peter laughs after saying, nor does he smile when he takes their order. He doesn’t ask them how they’re doing, or try to talk about the weather and other small talk topics that MJ’s convinced Peter has written in the back of his hand. 

And when they say thank you to MJ and leave, all Danny does is sigh. Peter would look at MJ and wait for a review on his customer service or a comment about how the middle schoolers looked eager to talk to him. 

The two are silent until Wayne calls them to sign off for their paycheck.

She’ll miss working with Peter. Definitely. 

* * *

“The train’s late,” MJ says, waiting with Eric at the station for Liz, looking up from the fourth book she's selected from Alfie’s Favorites shelf last week. She’d only finished half of chapter three before having to leave, Eric bothering her to hurry up. 

“I have an overnight shift at The Deli in 20 minutes, Michelle,” he groans. “You’re lucky my supervisor lead is nice.” 

She’s given up on asking him to call her MJ, knowing his stubborn ass is too childish to move on from their father’s abandonment. They’d fought about it twice over the summer, ending with their mother telling them to walk away from one another. Ever since the separation, her relationship with Eric hasn’t been her favorite thing in the world, both of them having different coping mechanisms because of the situation. Granted, their relationship was never the best with her parents always comparing the two.

Her brother wasn’t the best at school, opting to work full-time at a fast food restaurant after graduating rather than applying to colleges. Tammy and David never pressured him, though, and channeled their pressure into MJ, implying that they had relied on her more for higher education. She never mentioned anything to Eric, knowing that it's been a soft spot for him. She respected him and his decisions until the move. 

Tammy relied on both of them for help, for success, but Eric was reluctant to start community college, always putting off his application to start classes. It bothers MJ constantly seeing him avoiding their mother’s reminders of application deadlines, sneaking different girls into their house while she’s at work, and never being home. They shared a car, and aside from taking Tammy to work and picking her up after, he’d be off doing God knows what. 

“She’s here,” she lifts herself from the passenger seat, taking her legs off the dashboard and opening the door to wait for Liz. 

When she sees her best friend step off the platform, her heart sings, bursting with bundles excitement and nerves thinking about how much must have changed since she’s been gone. MJ can’t help but run to her, and Liz does the same as her duffle bag bounces in the air. 

“I’ve missed you,” Liz embraces her tightly. 

“Me too,” MJ pulls away, smiling, offering to take her duffle. When they get back to the car, Eric quickly greets Liz before pulling away, speeding back home. She can’t help but glance back to Liz, who’s taking in the suburban scenery outside the windows, old lamp posts shed a dim light on the streets, being in awe of how different just a few hundred miles could be. An entirely different world.

Her new world. 

* * *

“So on your days off work, you want to… go to work?” Liz questions MJ as she’s criss-crossed on the floor, applying her lip gloss in front of the full-body mirror the next morning. “Or this is about that _ Peter _ guy?”

MJ blushes, walking away from Liz’s reflection and curling up on her bed. It feels like MJ hasn’t moved away yet, Liz taking forever to get ready and MJ pacing the room in impatience as they chat about gossip, boys, and the like. Liz is the only person in her life that she’d be comfortable to be vulnerable, to be open with, and to show her emotions in full.

Being with her again feels like home. 

“I think it’d be cool if you met him,” she shrugs, wanting to be as casual as she can be about the crush that lingers in the back of her head. Liz gets up from MJ’s desk and pats down her denim skirt. 

“I think I’m craving ice cream,” Liz smiles, nodding at the open door. 

MJ rings the bell at her work only to find Danny working. 

“Here for your check?” Danny asks, readjusting the cow cap on his head.

“No, just wanted to show my friend the store,” MJ steps forward, arms waving at the different flavors presented. “And to abuse the discount I never use because I can’t stomach dairy.” 

As Liz analyzes the flavors and MJ makes awkward small talk with Danny about how there haven’t been many customers this weekend, students most likely finding themselves back-to-school shopping and letting go of the summer dessert because the first day was that following Tuesday. 

When the doorbell rings again, MJ’s embarrassed to have shot her head directly up in hopes that it’s the person she came here for, but it isn’t. Instead, it’s a girl with a headband tucking in her blonde hair, hands intertwined and placed perfectly in front of her pleated white skirt. Her short sleeve top is fitted on her body, and her outfit instantly reminds MJ of Betty. Maybe that’s just the style of Jericho, New York. 

Liz returns from paying Danny for the discounted two scoops of vanilla bean ice cream in a waffle cup, MJ shaking her head at the bland flavor choice despite the array of options the store has to offer. 

“Is he here?” the customer asks. 

“Not today,” Danny replies. “You just missed him. He clocked out an hour ago.” 

Liz curves her lips, an eye of suspicion toward the girl as she faces MJ. 

“Did he talk about where he was gonna go? He won’t answer my calls.” 

“I don’t think I’m legally allowed to do that?” Danny sounds tired, evident that this girl has come before. “He’s probably just busy. Or maybe wants to be alone.” 

“I’m just worried.” Danny shrugs at her. “Well if he comes in here again, make sure to have him call me.” 

“Sure,” he huffs. Finally, as the girl – Gwen – turns to leave the store, she stops and looks at MJ and Liz for a beat before talking. 

“I like your skirt,” Gwen smiles at Liz, tucking her hair behind her ears and walking away.

“Thanks,” Liz licks another spoonful of vanilla bean. When Gwen’s completely out of the store, Danny sighs louder, but MJ and Liz don’t ask any questions. They wave goodbye to him and head off for their adventure. MJ tries not to think of what this situation could be, but she feels her crush on Peter deflate, embarrassed at how she’d misinterpreted everything that has happened between them. 

Liz places her hand softly against the small of MJ’s back as they walk to Alfie’s Bookstore.

“This is my favorite place in the entire city,” MJ explains, opening the door for Liz and greeting Alfie whose dusting the counter in the front of the store. “Hey Alfie.” 

“Ah, MJ! Long time no see. Been busy?” 

“Something like that,” MJ grins, “I’ve been mentally preparing for senior year, I guess. Alfie, this is my best friend, Liz.” 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Liz shakes Alfie’s hand. “MJ’s a big bookworm.” 

“Ever since she’s discovered the place, she’s come here once a week except for this one,” he puts his hands on his hips. 

“I’m here now,” MJ comments, always comforted by the way Alfie has catered to her book-loving needs becoming one of the few constants she’s had since moving. 

“Which makes you one of my favorite customers,” he says before turning to Liz. “Enjoy the bookstore, Liz.” 

MJ leads Liz to her favorite reading spot after showing her the shelf of Alfie’s Favorites, informing Liz about her self-appointed goal of reading all of these books before leaving for college. So far, she’s finished four books from Alfie, all ranging in sizes and genres – all fiction. 

When they reach the upstairs lounge, there’s a woman with metal-rimmed glasses sipping the complimentary coffee and reading Michelle Obama’s memoir. She’s halfway through the book, looking intently into the content. MJ’s has read the novel before when it first came out and her mother had given it to her for Christmas last year. 

MJ talks to Liz in a low voice as to not disturb the woman. “Sometimes, I’m here from opening to close reading. Or writing even. I’ve become a regular, and I see the same people a lot. Most of them are older.”

“You’re always such an old soul, MJ,” Liz laughs. “This place suits you, though.”

“It’s one of the reasons why I’ve kept sane since the move,” she jokes, walking over to the table to make hot chocolate. Alfie keeps the air conditioning on during the summer, MJ remembering how cold she’d been the first time she’d stayed for more than a couple of hours. She brings the same, oversized sweater whenever she comes to read now. It always takes her away from the real world. 

As she’s stirring the powder, the door of the bathroom opens slowly. 

“May, I think I’m going to take off.” It’s Peter, and MJ can’t seem to be surprised when she remembers that Danny said something about him wanting to be alone, knowing this is a place she and Peter had in common when it came to running away. 

“On my day off?” the woman who was on the couch sets the memoir down. MJ hasn’t turned around, her heart racing at his presence. She hadn’t seen him since their day in New York. Liz is glancing back and forth between MJ and Peter, holding back a grin. 

“I’m sorry, May. I know you’ve been busy with work, but you know–”

“I’m kidding, sweetie. I understand,” MJ can hear May lifting herself from the couch. “Drop me back off at home, first.” 

“Yeah of course…” Peter’s voice falters. “MJ, is that you?” 

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath before turning around, cocoa in hand. “Hey.” 

“Hey.” His tone is nervous. “How are you?” 

“I’m alright… taking my best friend, Liz, around before school starts, you know.”

“Right, from Belmont,” he recalls, MJ’s heart fluttering at how great Peter is at remembering everything she mentions, even if she’s only mentioned it once. 

“I’m Liz,” she waves, awkwardly. “And you are?” 

“Peter,” he presents a tight smile, shifting his feet. May elbows him, coughing for an introduction. “Right! Sorry. Um, MJ, this is my aunt.” 

“I’m May,” she offers a hand that MJ takes immediately, a desire to impress the woman Peter talks so highly about. “Peter’s told me a lot about you.” 

His eyes widen. “May.” 

“What, Peter?” she throws her head back, laughing. “I think it’s sweet that he’s tried to make Jericho feel more like home to you.” 

Peter fiddles with his hands. MJ holds back another smile, not wanting to look too excited at the revelation. 

“He’s done a great job,” MJ comments. “I hear a lot about you, too.” 

“Hopefully only good things,” May snorts. “He’s been so tense lately around me. Teenagers are so complicated.” 

“_May_,” he repeats his whining, ears red. “We should go now.” 

“Right, right. Well, it was nice meeting you, MJ. And you, too, Liz.” 

They walk down the stairs, MJ observing the way Peter’s hands are frantically flailing next to May as they walk out of the store. 

“So,” Liz raises her brows in confusion. 

“Complicated,” MJ finishes the sentence for her.

* * *

“So, Liz, how did you like Jericho?” Tammy says, over a silent dinner after their little adventure around town. She made sure to take an early shift at the senior home, so she could come home, make Liz’s favorite meal – baked scallops and salmon, and join the family dinner. Even with Eric, who didn’t start his shift until 10pm. Without Liz, MJ thinks, this dinner probably wouldn’t have happened. They haven’t had a family dinner in a while, even if they had aligned times off, Eric going out the door when he can and Tammy being too exhausted to prepare dinner. But with Liz visiting, they needed to do this. To look like they’re doing okay. 

“It’s nice. It’s kind of like Belmont, but completely different at the same time,” she explains, cutting her salmon.

“It sucks that you’re leaving tomorrow night,” MJ frowns. “I wish I could take you to school with me.” 

“Me too,” Liz places a hand over MJ’s, “but at least we can go shopping tomorrow.” 

“Yeah,” MJ breathes.

Liz looks at Tammy and continues, “We pretty much got to go everywhere today.”

“That’s lovely, sweetie,” Tammy sips her water. The rest of the dinner is quiet, only the sound of utensils filling the air. MJ looks at her mother, whose eyes seem to be drooping lower and lower every day she sees her. MJ doesn’t comment on it, though, knowing Tammy’s trying her best to balance a life that hit her out of nowhere. Still, she wishes nothing more than for her mother to get the proper amount of sleep for once. 

“Hey, is Ms. Newman still hot?” Eric snorts, referring to their biology teacher. 

“Ew,” MJ rolls her eyes. 

“Eric,” Tammy says with a stern voice.

“What? I can’t be the only one that thinks so,” he shrugs, scarfing down his salmon. 

“Don’t answer that,” Tammy looks to Liz, who stays quiet. “Eric, have you registered for classes yet?” 

“I’ll do it soon,” Eric mumbles. 

“No you won’t,” MJ responds. He glares at her. “We all know you won’t.” 

“MJ,” Tammy tries to stop her, but she doesn’t stop. Her temples feel warm, annoyed at how her brother always has to make some crude comment that reminds her of how trashy men can be.

“What? Eric can say some gross shit over dinner, but I can’t tell the truth? You’ve been trying to get him to register for class since we moved here. He said he’d do it for summer, but he didn’t. So what makes you think he’ll do it for fall? He’s been out of school for two years. He doesn’t want that shit.” 

Eric scoffs. “You don’t get it, Michelle.” 

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me MJ?” she seethes through her teeth. 

“Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking entitled,” he responds. “You think you know everything, but you’re 17, and you don’t. Mom won’t tell you everything that happened because you fucking can’t handle it.” 

“Eric.”

“It’s more complicated than what you think it is.”

MJ drops her silverware on the plate. “Just cause you’re so up Dad’s ass.” 

“If I was, then why am I here, Michelle?” he returns. She’s quiet, unable to answer a question she never realized herself. 

“Enough!” Tammy says. “We have a guest over. Behave.” 

“Only cause we have guests right?” Eric scoots out of the chair, and leaves the dinner table. “That’s the only reason why we have to act like this.” 

And then he’s gone, out of the front door. 

“You shouldn’t be talking to your brother like that, MJ.” 

“What did Eric mean by I don’t know everything?” she ignores her mother’s comment. Tammy stays quiet, playing with the leftover scallops that have gone cold and the cheese that’s hardened with it. 

“Fine,” MJ crumples up her napkin and tosses it on top of the salmon she’s barely touched. “But I’ll find out one day.” 

She excuses herself from the table, nodding to the stairs for Liz to follow suit. Once they close her bedroom door behind them, MJ collapses on the floor, tears falling rapidly down her face. Liz kneels down next to her, running her fingers through MJ’s hair as she cries. 

MJ barely let herself cry in front of Liz, even at the peak of her parents divorce. And even then, she didn’t like to tell Liz about what happened. One day her family was fine, and the next day her father was gone. She’d mentioned the other woman once, told Liz to call her MJ, and didn’t talk about it ever again until her mother told her about the move. 

Liz didn’t pry – she never does. When MJ started going over to Liz’s more often instead of her house, she didn’t question it. And today is no different. 

“Why don’t you show me the roof?” Liz suggests. MJ nods into Liz’s arm, her skin soaked in salty tears. 

Once they’re properly lying down on the tiles of the roof, on top of a blanket designated for outside use, MJ no longer feels the heaviness of her eye bags because Liz starts talking about new updates on how their circle of friends always talk about missing her, how the first week of school will be weird, and in general, how the rest of the year is different.

They talk about the colleges they’re planning to apply to, Liz wanting to stay on the East Coast. She brings up how this long distance friendship is great practice from when they’re at the opposite ends of the country. 

Liz has a way of making MJ forget about all the bad shit in the world, and realizing this only makes her miss this moment of them looking at the stars on a summer night before it’s even over. 

“You’re my best friend,” MJ comments, after a period of silence. 

“I know,” Liz says. 

And for a while, they stay on the roof in silence. MJ thinks of the song that Peter played on the way home from Brooklyn, and how he mentioned even without the lyrics, it was emotional. She thinks that song would be perfect for this moment and realizes that it conveys a feeling she can’t ever explain with words, despite being a writer. 

She thinks of Peter again, and how she wishes she could tell him what happened with their family, realizing she’s never felt that way about her secrets before, with anyone. She’s gotten there with Liz because she’s worked on it because she’s become her best friend after all these years. 

With Peter, it’s like they’ve known each other for so long. It’s like they’re already ready to be best friends. MJ wants that for them, but she feels like she’s oversharing too much already. She resists the urge to text him because she knows for a fact he doesn’t think they’re as close as she already does. 

She wants to be his friend though. She wants to be closer to him. Yet, she’s afraid of her feelings that she can’t control. Seeing him today, stressed and wanting to leave Alfie’s, and seeing that girl who wanted to know where he was, left a bad taste in her mouth. 

MJ’s afraid of wanting to be his friend because she’s afraid of wanting more, thinking that Peter’s too damn special of a person to feel casual about. His effortlessly compassionate and kind demeanor is so easy, so comfortable. She hates that she feels this way, knowing that she’s created a version of Peter in her head that fulfills the void that’s been opening within her since the divorce. She’s latching onto him, and she can’t. She refuses because, even if MJ thinks about him in this way, she knows he doesn’t feel the same about her. 

To Peter, she’s just a co-worker that he developed a rapport with, just cause. She’s a new student that he wanted to be nice to because he’s nice to everyone. MJ’s just another person in his life that he’s been raised to have compassion for, to be open and willing to listen.

To Peter, she’s just MJ, and that’s it. 

* * *

As if her insecurities didn’t get the best of her the night before, on the roof with her best friend, MJ’s fear of the unknown is only confirmed when she and Liz are in line for Hot Dog on a Stick at the mall’s food court when she sees him. 

And her. The customer from work. Gwen. 

They’re sitting on a table next to each other, Peter’s arm casually draped around her shoulders as they laugh at their friends’ overexaggerated facial expressions, animated eyes to match whatever joke he’s telling. 

It almost feels as if the thoughts MJ kept thinking only manifested, like she spoke this fear into existence, blaming herself for thinking way too much about Peter and how awful it would be to have a crush on someone who’s not available. Although she expected it all along, she still felt ridiculous for sending him music, opening up to him, and going on that stupid city adventure. And she feels stupid for feeling stupid because she shouldn’t have expected anything out of Peter Parker, who – like she’s said to herself multiple times – was only being a good friend to her. 

Except now, she doesn’t think she can even be friends with him, realizing now that he had gotten her to open up to him and asked her endless questions about her life, but never once returning the favor. Granted, MJ never asked, and maybe if she did, Peter would tell her everything, but she was afraid. Afraid of the feeling that was currently bubbling in the pit of her stomach. A feeling of regret, sorrow, and embarrassment thinking she could open up to someone so quickly. 

Liz pulls her away from the line of sight almost immediately after getting their order of corn dogs from the counter, taking her to a corner of the food court where they can no longer see them. MJ hopes Peter didn’t see her.

“I knew he was suspicious,” Liz rests the tray of overpriced mediocre food on the table, scooting her chair closer to the table. “How is it okay for a guy to take someone else all the way to Brooklyn if he has a girlfriend?”

“He was just being nice,” MJ defends Peter because, although seeing him next to a beautiful, blonde girl hurt, she knows that he would never do anything to hurt a fly. “I over-exaggerated everything in my own head.” 

She doesn’t have any anger towards Peter, but only herself, knowing that she shouldn’t have let her walls fall down for the sake of herself, now thinking the one way to get over her miscalculated crush is to push him away when school starts. 

Her crush on Peter was a summer thing, the humidity of the air mistaken as a burning sensation of warmth when looking into his eyes as he drove her home from work. She blames it on the season and her warped perceptions of romance because of the endless fiction – both good and bad – that she’s come across. 

She’s only human, and even worse, a teenager. 

“Well,” Liz bites into her corn dog, chewing, then swallowing, “at least you’ll be around new people at school. You can forget all about him.”

“Yeah,” MJ picks at her fries. 

She can try. 

* * *

“Hopefully you’ll be used to block scheduling soon, Michelle.” Principal Morita perches his hands over his desk after handing MJ a folder overloaded with information about Midtown. She’s already dreading the moment she walks into her homeroom class, 10 minutes late because she’s obviously new and has no idea what she’s talking about. She hopes he doesn’t walk into the classroom to introduce her to everyone, wanting to lay low like she’d planned all along. 

“It seems simple enough,” MJ responds, thinking about how every other day is a different schedule, fitting to the way Midtown pushes for the success of their students. 

“I’ve included a sheet of all extracurriculars available to your disposal. Your school records show you were in a debate team back in Belmont?” 

She nods. 

“We have an Academic Decathlon team, reigning as Nationals champions for the past two years now. That’s the closest we have, but you should consider it.” 

“Sounds good.” 

“Mr. Harrington is the advisor, who’s also one of the science teachers here.” 

She glances at the clock. There are ten minutes until homeroom ends. “Thanks, Principal Morita. I should get to class now.” 

“You’ll do great here, Ms. Jones.”

She shuffles into her homeroom late, handing the excused slip into her teacher’s hand, rushing to the only empty seat right in the center of the classroom as her teacher, Mr. Banner, goes over the welcome week announcements. He’s soft and quiet as he paces the room, but he grabs the attention of all the students quickly. She also has him for AP Chemistry later that day. 

When the bell rings, she lingers at her desk for a second, only to be approached by Mr. Banner. 

“Hi, Michelle,” he smiles. “I’ll see you at fourth period.” 

“You can call me MJ,” she says.

“Sure, MJ.” 

As she heads out of the classroom door on her way towards her new locker, she feels a light tap on her shoulders, turning around to see Betty in her best back to school outfit.

“How you holding up?” she smiles, gripping her books tight as she catches up with MJ, walking double the amount because of her shorter legs. 

“I haven’t even gone to first period yet, Brant,” MJ jokes, before continuing. “I’m a little overwhelmed.” 

“Makes sense,” Betty says. “But you’ll have lunch with Cindy and me. And you’ll feel better.” 

“Thanks,” MJ reaches the front of her locker, twisting the code that Principal Morita scribbled on a piece of scratch paper. She unloads all of the books in her locker while Betty leans against the wall. “Don’t you have to get to your locker?” 

“I have a system,” she shrugs, “of grabbing the textbooks from my first two classes before so I don’t have to walk so much. My locker in a shitty spot and it takes up most of passing period if I have to go back and forth.” 

“Isn’t that what passing period is for?” MJ smirks at her. 

“That, and socializing with my new friend,” Betty nudges her. 

“Excuse me Betty,” a boy comes from behind her, his jet black hair falling in front of his face. MJ wonders how he can see through the curls. He hovers over Betty significantly, only a couple inches taller than MJ. 

“Sorry, Harry,” she responds, quickly and nervously. The interaction is tense and awkward. MJ feels like she’s seen him before somewhere, but can’t put her finger on it. He turns his lock effortlessly before exchanging his backpack for a textbook, ignoring Betty’s apology. 

“So,” he slams his locker door, looking straight into MJ’s eyes. His own eyes are fierce and almost gray. “Looks like I have a locker neighbor now. I’m Harry Osborn.” 

“Michelle,” she responds almost immediately, enticed by the way Harry leans against the wall, forgetting about her self-proclaimed new name. 

“I’ll see you around,” he grins, walking away. She blinks repeatedly, snapping herself out of what felt like a trance-like state of mind. 

“I didn’t know your real name was Michelle,” Betty brings her back to reality. 

“Yeah,” she breathes out. “Who is that?” 

“Harry Osborn,” Betty rolls her eyes. “Handsome, spoiled, basic. Part of the clan everyone loves so much.”

“I could tell from the first words that came out of his mouth,” MJ says. 

“They’re all like that. You’ll see eventually,” Betty looks at the clock mounted on the wall. “Three minutes til class. I’ll see you at lunch.” 

By the end of her AP Calculus class, MJ can feel her stomach caving in. She didn’t eat breakfast that day because she’d woken up late, the damn snooze button being her mortal enemy. She had to get to school early too because Mom’s shift started earlier than classes, but the facility was a farther drive than Midtown. 

She reminds herself to bring fruit next time so she can eat before the bell rings.

MJ darts out of calculus, ready to eat her home-prepped meal of less-than-spectacular peanut butter and jelly sandwich accompanied by a bruised banana. When she enters the double doors of the cafeteria, she scans the room for Betty or Cindy, realizing she should have texted them to ask where they were instead of casting herself into the jungle that is senior lunch. 

“MJ!” the voice she’s been so afraid of hearing today finally catches up to her. She turns around, seeing Peter dressed in a blue long sleeve with the collars of a button up peaking out. She decides everyone in Midtown agreed to dress formally except for her. She’s wearing an old t-shirt with permanent tea stains on the hem and an oversized jacket she found at a thrift store.

“Peter,” she greets him, firm and simple, doing her best to avoid displaying the subtle affection she’s conveyed from their past conversations. 

“How’s the first half of the day?” he holds the straps of his backpack as they walk towards the center of the cafeteria. 

“I’ve been doing great,” she exclaims, not admitting to the overexertion of energy she’s been needing to use the entire day. 

“Did you want to sit together? With my friends,” he mumbles, eyes down at the linoleum floor when MJ takes a quick glance to him. She bites her lip, looking forward, resisting the urge to say yes. 

“I’m actually sitting with someone else,” she forces. 

“Oh, okay,” he laughs it off, scratching the back of his head. “Told you I was right about you making friends easily. See you.” 

She watches him walk away without the usual pep in his step that she used to watch with bemusement at work. 

Cindy and Betty finally call her over to a table, relief washing over MJ when she realized her inexplicable fear of being ditched and alone in a high school cafeteria wasn’t real. 

“How do you know Peter Parker?” Cindy asks abruptly as MJ sits down.

“That’s a great conversation starter,” MJ snorts, grabbing her lunch out of her backpack.

“Sorry,” Cindy says, “but it’s Peter Parker.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asks, knowing exactly what it means by the way Betty and Cindy exchange looks.

“He’s basically Midtown’s shining star,” Betty states as if she’s reading a Wikipedia page. MJ tilts her head, confused. “Shoe in for valedictorian, going to be accepted in all the colleges he’ll apply to, friendly to everyone. I could go on.” 

MJ unwraps her sandwich. “You don’t need to.”

“So how do you know him?” Cindy pries. It’s not that MJ thinks they’re annoying for asking but more reluctant to admit her embarrassing summer story. She sighs, tongue rubbing the roof of her mouth to lick the remnants of peanut butter. 

She decides to tell the truth. “You know the guy that I talked about on the Fourth of July?” 

They both nod, and MJ shrugs as she gestures her hands in a way that says, “Well…” 

“No way,” they say simultaneously. 

“Way. But he has a girlfriend, apparently.” 

“Gwen Stacy,” Cindy answers. “They’ve been together since the end of freshman year.” 

“You’d know exactly when,” Betty teases. “Remember when I said Cindy’s been in the same situation as yours before?” 

“No way,” MJ repeats, completely unsurprised.

“Way.” 

“So what happened?” MJ asks. 

“I just didn’t know if he liked me or not. He was super nervous around me all the time. But honestly, when you’re 15 and awkward, you’re nervous around everyone. I never made a move or anything, but when he started talking to Gwen, I backed off right away. Because it’s Gwen Stacy.” 

“You explaining everyone’s personalities because of their full names does nothing significant for me,” MJ laughs. 

“She’s just always gotten what she wants since, like, birth,” Betty answers. “Her dad’s an NYPD captain.”

“But they’re on and off,” Cindy adds. “It’s a big, giant mess.”

“Captain Stacy doesn’t like Peter because he’s ‘linked to trouble,’” Betty uses air quotes. 

“You can’t really blame him for thinking that,” Cindy mumbles. 

“I think it’s absurd to think that. He also thinks Peter’s a distraction, which is bullshit. Gwen distracts Peter just as much.” 

MJ, feeling overwhelmed, waves her arms to grab their attention. “This is a lot of information, and I’m frankly too drained to absorb all of it. But what I can tell from what you’re saying is that Peter’s just another boy who thrives off of attention from other girls even if he has a girlfriend.” 

“I wouldn’t say that,” Betty frowns. “There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s just socially inept, even if everyone does like him.” 

“What sucks is he probably knows that everyone does,” Cindy adds. “Including you.” 

“I don’t… like him,” MJ defends herself. “I’m not going to talk to him. It just seems like a giant mess, and I’m already kind of annoyed because of what happened this past summer. He’s confusing and oblivious.” 

“Well, that’s kind of what you get for thinking Peter Parker can be caught up with anyone other than Gwen Stacy.” Betty’s comment rubs MJ the wrong way, knowing that not once did the two mention that Gwen and Peter even actually liked each other. She wonders if Peter’s in the right relationship, turning her head to the table he tried to usher her to at the beginning of lunch. 

As Betty explains their group, she watches his group of five, one being Gwen Stacy and another being, of course, MJ’s locker neighbor, Harry Osborn. Betty points out Flash, and according to her, is arrogant and pompous – kind of like Harry, except not as subtle. She also mentions Ned, who MJ recalls Peter’s talked about several times, saying that he’s the nicest out of all of them aside from Peter.

“They’re best friends,” Betty adds. “I never understood why the two of them are so close to the other three.” 

“It’s because Harry’s Peter’s longest friend. And Harry and Gwen are close because of their dads. And Flash, well… he can never be escaped.” 

MJ watches them interact intently, wondering what kind of ridiculous back story is behind the reason why Peter’s in a group that screams trendy and cool when – from all the times MJ’s spent with Peter – she knows he doesn’t give off that energy at all. 

She takes one more look at their group, trying to steal one quick glance to Peter before she thinks she’s staring for too long. 

But to her dismay, he’s already staring back.

* * *

Somehow, Cindy and Betty coerce MJ to go to a Midtown Tigers football scrimmage on Thursday. It’s uneventful, and Cindy and Betty know it, too. 

“The reason why we go,” Cindy offers a bit of her cheap nachos to MJ, “is to prove that we’re spirited even if it’s not a real game of the season.” 

“Plus, I’m here to report on it because no one in the newspaper wants to cover sports.” 

“There’s a school newspaper?” MJ asks, wondering how she’d missed that extracurricular in Morita’s Midtown How-to Guide. 

“Yeah. Do you like writing?” Betty returns excitedly. MJ nods. “You should join. I’m the editor-in-chief. We meet Mondays and Wednesdays after school.” 

“Great,” MJ smiles. “I’m thinking of doing Academic Decathlon, too.”

“I’m in that!” Cindy grins. “You’re so ambitious for joining both clubs.” 

“I just want to do everything I can before graduating,” she explains. 

“You know who’s in both of the clubs you want to join?” Betty teases. “Your favorite person, Peter Parker.” 

MJ rolls her eyes. He’s inescapable. She wants no more than to just forget about the times they had in the summer, knowing that whatever it could have been – even if it was the friendship she declared she wanted – was ruined by the company he surrounds himself with, MJ already feeling strange and eerie when she thinks about _ that _group. 

There’s not that big of a crowd at the scrimmage, MJ knowing that the first real game is next Friday, which she heard from her chemistry lab-partner, Felicia, as they walked out of the door. 

“I only go to real games,” Felicia shrugs as she waves MJ goodbye after she asked if Felicia was headed to the scrimmage. 

Now, in the last play of the game, Midtown’s winning by a landslide and MJ takes another bite off Cindy’s nachos. The saltiness of the chips urges her to buy a soda, excusing herself from the bench as she makes her way to the snack bar. 

“Thanks,” she mutters to the employee who handed her a medium-sized soda. When she turns around, she nearly runs into body. And with her luck, it’s Peter. 

“It’s you,” he laughs. 

“And it’s you,” she returns flatly. There’s a look of concern glossed in his eyes, mixed with the confusion MJ can sense from the way his body tenses as his hands scratch his head.

“Was there something I did wrong?” he asks. 

“What do you think?”

“I really don’t know, MJ,” he confesses. “It feels like you kind of hate me for no reason.”

“I don’t hate you,” she pushes past him, only for him to catch up to her quickly. “I’d just rather not have to work hard for someone’s friendship because he’s so popular.” 

Her brutal honesty sometimes needs to stop running her mouth. 

“Okay,” he prolongs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Oh, quit the innocent act, Parker. I know you’re well-liked. I know you have a lot of shit going on with your extracurriculars and Gwen Stacy. And I know you have no time to be showing a new kid around pretending to care about me when you clearly don’t.” 

“MJ,” he says, almost offended. But she keeps going. 

“Just forget everything I told you in the summer. I was stupid to think you actually wanted to be good friends when all you wanted was to fill in silence at work.”

She knows Peter isn’t as vicious as she’s making him out to be, but she knows this is the only way to get him to back off so she can stop thinking about him. 

“That’s not true,” he stops behind her, defeated at her words.

She keeps walking, hating herself for stinging her heart completely on her own. “That’s exactly what happened.” 

When she sits back down in between Cindy and Betty, her eyes hyper-focus onto the quarterback running on the field but her mind starts to float away, like she’s not in her own body, like everything that just happened is melting into one moment that fills her with regret. 

The look in Peter’s eyes when she turned back one last time hurt her enough to push her away from him even further. But she knows it’s best to not try to form a friendship with Peter. It’d be a problem for her, trusting someone who – for all MJ knows – can’t be trusted. 

She fights her subconscious telling her she’s wrong, telling her she should apologize to Peter and try to be his friend. She can’t waste her time thinking about it, thinking about the way she only has to make it through a year in Midtown before she can disappear from Jericho, forgetting about everyone here. One year isn’t enough to trust anyone, let alone someone who’s kept his life too private compared to how much she’s opened herself up in such a short amount of time. 

It’s almost ridiculous how MJ nearly let herself be read by Peter or anyone. She swears to herself that she’ll keep that promise of laying low, of not exposing herself to anybody because she doesn’t want to depend on anyone for her happiness, nor does MJ feel the need to talk about herself in a way that’s too revealing.

“Are you okay?” Betty asks. 

“Yeah, completely fine,” she lies through her teeth, swallowing down the truth as she sips on her Cherry Coke. 

Midtown’s going to be interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would greatly appreciate your comments.
> 
> This is work is a lot different from what I've written so far (which is mostly college/adult AU's) and I really love the idea of working on a Coming of Age AU. 
> 
> Let me know what you think, what you think might happen, and other things tropes you might want to see. I have the outline of this story planned out, but you never know what can change my mind.


End file.
